


Squeeze

by ClockworkSampi



Category: Touhou Project
Genre: Gen, Language, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 10:57:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10897914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockworkSampi/pseuds/ClockworkSampi
Summary: The attempted takeover of Gensokyo, The Scarlet Mist Incident, the attempted takeover of The Moon, the Library Pool… Really, after so many harebrained schemes, you would think Remilia Scarlet would have learned her lesson.You’d be correct. For one, she’s learned how to do them better.The question of the night is: What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? With any luck, the answer is not unleashing the most destructive force Gensokyo has ever known, while still allowing Remilia a view of the fireworks. A win for everyone! Except for a few people, but they don’t really matter in the long run.





	1. New Game

**Author's Note:**

> Touhou Project and all related trademarks are the property of Team Shanghai Alice. Please support the official products in every capacity.

The only light here came from wizened torches. She had inspected their fire on her way down. They had been burning for some three hundred years. Slipshod pyromancy by her standards.

 

Here there were stairs. She hadn’t used them. Stairs had ceased to interest her an age ago.

 

Here there were magic seals. They were the type meant for keeping things out, or possibly, in. Not being on the receiving end of one was a pleasant change of pace.

 

Here there was blood. Something familiar, at least; were she still in a possession of something resembling a self-preservation instinct, it wouldn’t have come close to tripping it. But this blood wasn’t the newly spilt stuff she was used to seeing; the black stains had practically melded into the scarred masonry.

 

Here there was a door. It was massive and so thickly inundated by magic she could _taste_ the thinning of reality emitting off of it. It tasted, as one might expect, like chicken.

 

\-----

 

Here loomed none other than the Scarlet Devil Mansion.

 

Much went into making a building loom, and the Scarlet Devil Mansion could loom with the best of them. Were it possible, smaller structures would line up for the chance to study in its shadow. A looming building had to have size, and wield it like a master fencer. A looming building had to have a silhouette, positioned in such a way that one regulation lightning bolt from behind illuminated the whole thing for only the smallest of moments. A looming building had to have door hinges that creaked with just the right amount of rust. A looming building had to have a…reputation. The ellipsis was, quite obviously, of critical importance.

 

Most crucial, however, was the appropriate staff. The Scarlet Devil Mansion boasted a residence of the most powerful of exterminators, the most charismatic of leaders, the most world-leading of magician scholars and also Hong Meiling. Nothing got the heart pumping in a weary vagabond seeking shelter from a stormy night like a deathly-eyed maid saying in monotone, ‘I’m sorry, the mistress is sleeping right now. Although she is a bit of a night owl, as it were, I am certain she would love to…have you for dinner.’

 

The fact that there were no weary vagabonds seeking shelter from a stormy night in Gensokyo was a trivial oversight, tonight especially, with its bright full moon and cloudless sky (there were nevertheless a few lanterns scattered about for the benefit of those unfortunate souls not born as Fiends of the Night). The principle is what was main thing. It was _tradition_. People expected it.

 

In short, the Scarlet Devil Mansion was just the place where a vampire could hang out.

 

And here, seated in an intricate metal patio chair on her front lawn, was the terrible mistress herself: Remilia Scarlet, The Scarlet Devil, The Eternally Young Scarlet Moon, World of Crimson, Vampire of the Heavy Fog, Nocturnal Devil of Scarlet.

 

She turned a page in the manga she was reading, the one with the pink cover that had all the hearts on it.

 

Around her, the well-kept grounds were pocked by small craters, the nearest of which still had rainbow smoke undulating languidly out of it.

 

Keeping her eyes on her book, Remilia said, “Still dead, Cirno?”

 

A shaking hand raised itself out of the smoking crater, braced itself on the edge and pushed, hauling up the ice fairy to a sitting position.

 

Cirno’s head bobbed dizzily.

 

“Dunno. Am I?”

 

“I would assume not. I’ve seen plenty of corpses; a statistically insignificant number of them expressed predilection towards vocalization.”

 

“Literally no idea what just came out of yer mouth,” said Cirno, attempting to get her eyes to point in the same direction.

 

“Par for the course, then,” said Remilia happily.

 

“Whatever that means,” agreed Cirno. With a grunt, she pushed herself a few inches off the ground. She hovered there, cracking her neck. “Gonna feel that one the morning, I’ll tell ya what.”

 

The hempen effluvium finally made Remilia glance up.

 

“Cirno?”

 

“What up?”

 

“You are aware your dress is on fire?”

 

Cirno looked down at the prismatic smolders dotting her hemline.

 

“So _that’s_ what that burning feeling was. How is that still there after my respawn?”

 

“Dragon chi is quite powerful,” said Remilia offhandedly. “Shall I extinguish it?”

 

Cirno opened her mouth to answer, then stopped, looking suddenly philosophical.

 

“No,” she said at length. “I don’t think you should. You know what they say about lighting a fire underneath yer ass.”

 

Remilia toyed with the notion of informing Cirno what a metaphor was, but…nah. It would be so much more fun if she found out on her own. Moreover, this was Cirno, the same ice fairy that flourished ongoing struggles wrapping her head around the actual, decidedly not as humorous definition of ‘asinine.’

 

Instead, Remilia said in a casual tone, “So, what exactly have you challenged my gatekeeper to a danmaku battle over?”

 

“I want in.”

 

“But why fight Meiling? Don’t you always just sneak in without hassle?”

 

Cirno’s eyes went wide.

 

“How do you know that?!”

 

“It wasn’t easy,” Remilia admitted. “The encrypted message scrawled in ice on the Mansion wall that read, ‘Sarno vvass har nine exclamation point’ took considerable mental power to decipher.”

 

“That was Rumia!”

 

“I’m not out for vengeance or anything.” Remilia turned another page. “Merely interested as to why the _undisputedly strongest_ being in Gensokyo is gracing Scarlet Devil Mansion with her presence.”

 

“Well,” said Cirno a guarded tone, but hauteur was rapidly beginning to outshine qualm. She cleared her throat. “Well. I mean. If ya _gotta_ know, it’s ‘cuz tonight is a night unlike any other!” Cirno thumped her chest. “I’m on a quest!”

 

Remilia raised an eyebrow. “A quest?”

 

“This ain’t my first roe-day-oh, either. When a heroine is on a quest, they _gotta_ fight whoever is in their way. No exceptions! Even–nay– ‘ _specially_ when there’s no reason to at all.”

 

“I’m familiar with the code. I’ve been on a share of quests myself. Been the destination of more. What business have you in the Mansion? Wait! No, don’t tell me. I don’t want spoilers-”

 

“I’ve come to kill you.” Cirno rolled her eyes. “Duh.”

 

\-----

 

Upon that chicken-tasting door, pencil tapping against her temple and open notebook in her hand, lounged Fujiwara no Mokou, who wasn’t sure why she was here.

 

Well, no, that wasn’t entirely true. _She_ was here because going through on promises made to a certain Keine Kamishirasawa were infinitely more painless than backing out on them.

 

What she was unsure of was _why_ she was here. Keine was under orders by her employer, the one that paid her exuberantly every full moon for a private tutoring session, to not tell Mokou anything about the job at all.

 

Looking back, Mokou should have questioned this, yet at the time, there had been so many good reasons not to question, although none of them were springing up presently. The night she agreed to come had been spent under no fewer than eight sake bottles.

 

The only thing she was allowed to know was that this was part of some kind of “etiquette tutorial,” though personally, Mokou found it dubious that she would be called upon to teach proper tea ceremony, especially given the venue. She could only assume she was here to provide anecdotes on how _not_ to be a destructive almost-member of some kind of society. She had tons of those.

 

Whatever it was she was here for, she wished they would get on with it. Mokou slaked her boredom by basking in her second favorite pastime: plotting new and inventive ways to murder her eternal rival. Second only to her favorite pastime of murdering her eternal rival.

 

The current page of her notebook read thusly:

 

**Step 1) Ambush Lunatic**

**Step 2) Break arms**

**Step 3) Break legs**

**Step 4) Grind lower jaw to ash**

**Step 5) Combust digestive system**

**Step 6) Boil brain slowly**

**Step 7) Listen to braindead gurgles for approx. two hours**

**Step 8) Completely liquefy brain**

*** IMPORTANT* Step 9) Burn ‘Property of Mokou’ into any remaining real estate**

**Step 10) Dump body in Eientei; preferably in front of that purple haired rabbit; her screams are too funny**

As it stood, certainly serviceable…but lacked in substance…needed more of that Fujiwara no _flare_.

 

Hmm…

 

Well, when in doubt, fall back on what you know, right?

 

She put her pencil to the paper and wrote an addendum:

 

**Step 7) Listen to her braindead gurgles for approx. two hours _while pointing and laughing hysterically_**

****

Only then did Mokou permit herself a nod of satisfaction. Rarely did she come up with such perfection.

 

The huge door opened with the sound of oiled hinges. A hakutaku with a ribbon on her horn poked her head out.

 

“Alright, Mokou. I think we’re ready for you.”

 

\-----

 

Remilia’s book snapped shut.

 

“Have you?” she purred.

 

“Super sorry about this, Remilia,” Cirno went on, unabashed. “You seem like a reasonable blood-sucking affront to nature; I wish it never had to come to this. It’s just that I’ve gotta prove myself. See, there’s this new fairy goin’ ‘round sayin’ she’s the strongest fairy, and, y’know, we can’t be having that.”

 

Remilia grinned at her in such a way that a single fang poked out. It was a cultured skill.

 

“Don’t be sorry. That’s wonderful news! There really has been a destitution of assassination attempts these past few decades. Shame. I always thought they were a great way to meet new people. Maybe have a meal afterwards, even.”

 

“Thanks for bein’ a good sport. Ya think cherry blossom lady and the doc will be as understandin’ when I go to kill them?” said Cirno.

 

“No doubt in my mind. Say, would you care to stay dinner after this?”

 

“Um. I think that’s gonna be difficult.”

 

“That’s disappointing. Somewhere else to be?”

 

“‘cause yer gonna be dead.”

 

“Oh yes. That’s right.”

 

“‘cos Cirno, strongest fairy in existence, is gonna kill you.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Unless…”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I mean, I could be possibly persuaded to spare your life if there’s gonna be booze…?”

 

“Oh!” Remilia smiled indulgently and sat up a little straighter. “Oh I see. I regret to inform you that as a vampire I do not drink…wine.”

 

“Ah man! You too?” whined Cirno. “Five hundred years old and you’re still not allowed to drink!?”

 

Remilia’s smile frosted over.

 

“What.”

 

“Whenever I go to the flower viewing whatsit, everyone is drunk. Everyone except the fairies! It’s not like we don’t drink when Reimu isn’t watching!”

 

“I don’t think you understand. I _said_ –”

 

“I mean, we’re citizens too! We have the legal, unalien’ble right just like everyone else to get smashed an’ do embarrassing stuff we won’t remember in the morning.”

 

“It’s a joke, you see–”

 

“Well, I better get back to fighting Meiling. Sit tight, Remilia! You’ll be dead before you know it!”

 

“Because red wine and blood are–”

 

“No stupid hell fairy is gonna be the strongest while I still draw breath! All of Gensokyo will see I’m the best fairy ever, even if I have to kill everyone to prove it!”

 

“Oh no you don’t, you miserable, frost bitten–”

 

Remilia watched as Cirno jetted over to Meiling.

 

“I’ve got one more hit left, and I’m makin’ it count!” announced Cirno. “Try it again, I dare you! Do your Flower Sign again! You won’t touch me once!”

 

The dragon groaned and lifted herself into a lethargic fighting stance.

 

Remilia slumped in her chair with a grumble and went back to her manga as the danmaku fireworks started up again.

 

“Too intricate for your tiny fairy mind, anyway.”

 

\-----

 

Mokou scarcely shut the door behind her before her head was assault hugged.

 

She didn’t flinch in the slightest. Finding herself blinded and knees unexpectedly buckled was barely an inconvenience to a woman for whom surprise eviscerations, amputations and/or beheadings were a weekly occurrence.

 

“Hefmo,” she said.

 

“Hi!” shouted a shrill voice in her ear. “You’re going to be my new friend?”

 

Keine’s voice groaned. It was a sound Mokou would never mistake, she’s heard it enough times.

 

“Off our guest, please. We talked about this. Extensively.”

 

“I’m being friendly, though, Miss Kamishirasawa. Just like you said I should!” pouted the voice.

 

“I am not asking again, Flandre Scarlet,” said Keine, teacher of many rambunctious elementary students.

 

There was a despondent whine, some glassy jangles and the rush of movement, then Mokou could move her head sideways again. Wielding this new freedom, she saw a girl land in front of Keine.

 

Probably a youkai, if only because fairies don’t get that large. Interesting wings, though. Keine had called the girl Scarlet. A relation to Remilia? Sister would make the most sense. The girl had eyes redder than a blood cyclone, fangs out of a primordial nightmare and wore an ensemble with entirely too many ruffles for Mokou’s taste. This Flandre was somehow paler than her supposed sibling, with irises that positively sparkled and beamed a huge, bright smile so dead it could be taxidermied.

 

Mokou was tempted to say the overall impression was very doll-like, except she had seen dolls with more warmth than the creature before her.

 

“Flandre, this is my friend, Fujiwara no Mokou. And she’s here to be your friend, too,” said Keine with circumspect enthusiasm. “But only if you are nice to her, understand? Like we went over?”

 

Flandre waved at Mokou; an action that, for some reason, required the moving of her entire body.

 

“It’s so great to meet you, Miss no Mokou! It’s been so long since I’ve made a new friend. And you’re a human! I _love_ humans!”

 

Mokou ventured a grin. “Not just for dinner, I hope.”

 

“Of course not!” Mokou had intended it to be a joke, but the vigor of the answer made her question whether it had been received as such.

 

“Do you want to play with me?” said Flandre, vibrating with excitement. “We can play my favorite game!”

 

“Alright.”

 

“Yay!”

 

“ _Actually_ , we have much to get through–” Keine began before Mokou breezily cut her off.

 

“What’s the harm in it, Keine? We’ve got all night, right?”

 

“No. We do not. We have an hour, and I have history to write,” said Keine. “And the harm-”

 

“Just one round!” Flandre pleaded.

 

“-the harm in it is–”

 

“Just _one_!”

 

“-is rather substantial-”

 

“Come _on_ , Keine. It’s just a bit of fun,” said Mokou.

 

Then Keine remembered who she was talking to.

 

“Fine. One round,” she sighed. “ _Only_ one. Then we get to work. Got it, you two?”

 

“Alright! _You_ stand back, Miss Kamishirasawa. Unless you want to get dirty.” Flandre turned to Mokou and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “You know, sister says I’m not to play this game anymore. She says it’s too dangerous. But _I’ve_ never been hurt playing it! You have to promise not to tell her.”

 

“Gettin’ dirty, not supposed to play it, _and_ it’s too dangerous? Now I know it’s gotta be fun. You have my word; I’ll keep my mouth shut.” said Mokou.

 

“ _Farther_ back, Miss Kamishirasawa! And it is fun, Miss no Mokou. Such great fun! I haven’t played Squeeze in forever. I’m so happy you said yes!”

 

“Call me Mokou, kiddo. Never was one for formality,” Mokou slid her hands in her pockets. “How does one play this Squeeze?”

 

“It’s really easy! All you have to do is – no, _farther_ back and a _little_ bit to the left – we take turns squeezing each other, and the one who squeezes the hardest wins!”

 

“One round!” called Keine, plus slight echo.

 

“Sounds simple enough.” And it did. It made Mokou wonder what the catch was.

 

Flandre extended a hand. Something that wasn’t exactly magic flared in her palm.

 

“I’ll go first! Don’t worry. Since this is your first game, I won’t squeeze to-o hard–”

 

\-----

 

“I think I squeezed too hard, Miss Kamishirasawa,” said Flandre solemnly.

 

With the practiced patience of one who has done this thousands of times, Keine wiped the charred Mokou bits from Flandre’s cheek.

 

_Eighty-three_...

 

“Consider this lesson one,” said Keine. “Would you care to guess what you did incorrectly?”

 

Flandre’s relatively gore free face scrunched.

 

“Didn’t say please?” sounded like a safe bet. Remilia _always_ admonished her for that.

 

“No. I mean, no, you didn’t, but that’s not the biggest faux pas.”

 

“Didn’t say thank you, then.”

 

“Again, no.”

 

Sweat of concentration appeared on Flandre’s brow as she called upon all the experience she had with discourse.

 

_Fifty-nine…_

 

“I…” she hesitated.

 

“Hmm…?” Keine raised an encouraging eyebrow.

 

“I,” Flandre gulped, “I shouldn’t have…”

 

“Shouldn’t have…?”

 

“…shouldn’t have broken your friend?”

 

_Thirty-four…_

 

“Very good, Miss Scarlet. You are a quick learner. Now, what is the second–”

 

“But Miss Kamishirasawa!” Flandre burst out. “You told me to be the friendliest I could be and that’s what I was! I offered to play my favorite game and everything! It’s not my fault she couldn’t keep up! I–”

 

Keine held up a finger for silence.

 

“I did say that, yes. However, I assumed it was implied in ‘friendliest’ that – that _breaking_ did not factor into it.”

 

Flandre made a face at Keine like she just retracted horns and her hair turned blue.

 

_Sixteen…_

 

“And you have yet to apologize to Miss Fujiwara.”

 

Two sets of red eyes rolled to the still hot depression where, against all logic for its existence, a single red and white paper charm fluttered to the ground.

 

“Sorry, Miss Fujiwara,” intoned Flandre.

 

“Not now. She is quite dead now.” Keine’s mental countdown reached _zero_. She stepped back.

 

“You may want to cover your eyes, Flandre, this part can be quite bright.”

 

Flandre made another face, but did as suggested.

 

And then the heat of Resurrection fell upon her.

 

\-----

 

The world seemed to blink. One moment there was no Chief Maid Sakuya Izayoi beside Remilia, the next there was.

 

She looked, as always, as immaculate as polished silver; her uniform cleaned to perfection, her hands folded crisply over her apron, her low heels glossy, her voice tidy as she said:

 

“Mistress, should the ice fairy’s behavior be encouraged?” She also sounded annoyed. ‘Annoyed’ being the closest she ever got to ‘bloody hysterical.’

 

“Why not?” said Remilia. She had given up the pretense of reading and was observing the swell of ice and prismatic bullets with full attention. “Cirno’s an idiot, yes, but she’s not a malignant idiot. An endearing idiot, most possibly.”

 

“She’s wasting Meiling’s time.”

 

“Meiling wasn’t doing anything with it before.”

 

“She’s a nuisance.”

 

“And a determined one, at that. Inspiring, really, how she never lets facts interfere with her chosen reality.”

 

“She said she’s going to kill you.”

 

“Which reminds me: put out an additional plate for dinner. We’ll be hosting Cirno this evening.”

 

“Really.”

 

“But of course,” said Remilia airily. There was no one like a vampire for getting underneath another’s skin. “You of all people should know what my policies towards would-be slayers of vampires are.”

 

Sakuya was very good at looking blank. It was required when one was serving under Remilia Scarlet.

 

“Shall I commission Miss Margatroid for a fairy-sized uniform with ice wing holes, then?”

 

“I wouldn’t go that far. This is Cirno we’re talking about,” said Remilia. “Her wings sort of float on her back, anyway.”

 

“Cirno the Ice Fairy really the one to at last bring the Scarlet Devil Mansion to its knees?”

 

“They say when two great forces oppose each other, victory will go to the one that knows how to yield.”

 

“I see you’ve been speaking philosophic with Meiling.”

 

“Sakuya,” said Remilia, not admonishingly, “I have unparalleled respect for the pride you take in our Mansion, but let the fairy have her dreams. It’s not like she has anything else.”

 

Sakuya glanced at the danmaku duel. Cirno was standing atop a rise of frozen bullets, making rapid and varied hand signs, most of them involving the middlemost fingers, that Sakuya, being a respectable maid, was certain she did not know the symbolism of.

 

“There have been more dangerous simpletons to have more dangerous aspirations, I suppose.”

 

“Besides,” Remilia added, “this way is far more entertaining.”

 

\-----

 

It was the hottest and most luminous thing Flandre ever felt, heard or smelled, and she had seen the sun that one time.

 

And then it was over.

 

Flandre removed her hands from her eyes, blinking away the purple and green blossoms floating in her vision at Fujiwara no Mokou, who stood on somewhat wavering legs and rubbed her face muzzily, but for the most part, looking as resplendent as the day she burgled immortality.

 

Flandre gaped.

 

Mokou said, “Okay, I’ve died a lot of interesting and painful ways. But that one… _oof_ , let me tell ya.” She glanced at Flandre. “What even was that?”

 

“How?” Flandre breathed. “I squeezed your Eye.”

 

“Couldn’t be. I’d recognize my eyes being torn out any day of the week.”

 

“Not your eye. Your Eye.” Flandre approached slowly.

 

“I take it that’s with a capital ‘E?’”

 

“The Eye. The keystone of the metaphysical anchor that keeps a thing grounded in the perpetuity of actuality.” Flandre stabbed a suspicious talon at Mokou’s chest. “I squeeze it and things go boom. Everything has one. _Everything_ goes boom. Did you cheat?”

 

“Sorry.” Mokou shrugged. “Can’t help but cheat death.”

 

“Not for very long, anyway,” said Keine, with didactic lilt. “You see, Miss Fujiwara _can_ die, Flandre, but she comes right back.”

 

Something seemed to go ‘click’ in Flandre’s head. She put her hands to her face gasped shrilly.

 

“You mean you have infinite coins?!”

 

“Uh. Sure,” said Mokou. She had long since learned the safest way to handle the insanity was to play along; ride the train of thought long enough, and you may discover yourself stepping off at the insane notion that you were sane.

 

It worked for her, after all.

 

“That makes it your turn, Miss no Mokou,” mused Flandre, hovering backwards. “I guess. No one’s ever lasted half a round of Squeeze before.”

 

Mokou sunk her hands into her pockets, this time so deep she slouched.

 

This was a posture Keine identified with a measure of urgency. Here was Mokou not only gripping the sheath of her metaphorical sword, but also had fingers fluttering above the hilt.

 

Oh gods _no_ , thought Keine, Mokou was getting _excited_.

 

Keine said, “One round is all you’re getting,” which calmed her. Calm was imperative when an equation incorporated the variables known to the world as Fujiwara no Mokou and Flandre Scarlet.

 

She pulled up a chair at the sole table in Flandre's expansive room. There was no mistaking that it was a table of a young student; it was completely barren of any and all educational materials. Ignoring the black stains of Flandre’s messily eaten past meals, she dug into her dress pocket and produced her yatate and a scroll, which she rolled out. She might as well do some squeezing of her own and squeeze in some work.

 

She also had to best the vampire girl when she first arrived before she would listen to her, and then suddenly Remilia insisting she only meet Flandre in her hakutaku form had made sense. Flandre saw the world in games. She thought her ‘punishment’ to losing to Keine were these lessons. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time Keine had to drag some students kicking and screaming into class. At least with Flandre she only had to do it once.

 

Some of her students had gone so far as to start a rumor that she could headbutt a steel beam and the _beam_ would have to walk it off. Which was plain nonsense, really. That beam was in no shape to be walking after Keine had finished with it.

 

Their relationship since Keine overcoming Flandre had become one of inexorable heuristics. It would be folly to think Mokou would be any different. No one knew better than Keine that history repeated itself.

 

“So. A squeeze, eh?” Mokou was saying. “I’ve got a squeeze for ya, alright…”

 

From her pocket, Mokou pulled out a barely used spell card. She was already evaporating into smoke.

 

“ **Possessed by Phoenix**!”

 

\-----

 

“At any rate,” said Remilia, steepling her fingers and leaning on them, “you have an update on my first and third favorite red-whites?”

 

“I do. And might I add that Miss Kamishirasawa was staring at the door rather oddly when I entered. I fear she is getting good at noticing cessations in time. Although she is likely the only one; the young mistress and Miss Fujiwara were preoccupied.”

 

“Preoccupied with what?”

 

“Playing Squeeze, mistress.”

 

Remilia closed her eyes.

 

“Sakuya, I fear we are not off to a great start.”

 

“You’re surprised?” said Sakuya, not feeling so herself. “Mistress, even Meiling advised against your – and I do mean this – your _scheme_ of not informing Miss Fujiwara of the young mistress’s personage. The woman is a - not to put too fine a point on it - a firecracker. She lives for death. If you can call it life. She should have at least been enlightened to your sister’s precarious mental state. As it stands, she has the very real possibility to rekindle the young mistress’s penchant for annihilation you and Meiling have striven to diminish. Or, more fatally, begin to think total obliteration is, quote on quote, ‘hip,’ as children are wont.”

 

“Humor me for a moment, will you?”

 

Remilia rose, less an unfolding of muscle than it was what you get when a marionettist languidly raises the control bar, and took a few paces toward the Scarlet Devil Mansion; its belletristic loom merged with the majestic silver glow from the moon. And here Remilia poised with a stygian grandeur all of heaven would tremble from.

 

Per widely-held consensus, it was somewhat difficult to emit an air of absolute authority when one is a pinky’s length on the tall side of four feet and routinely wore pink dresses with enough frilling to make the common passerby motion sick. Five hundred years and not a single person figured out how Remilia Scarlet managed it with such staggering elegance.

 

Perhaps this is what was meant when people said ‘charisma.’

 

Remilia raised a hand, to complete the sovereign air of the image.

 

And the Scarlet Devil spake, and indeed she did spake, for the only business such a regal monstrosity had speaking was spaking:

 

“ **The first safety measure we enact if Flandre breaks out of the basement is to cause a cloudburst over the mansion. Why?** ”

 

“Vampires cannot consciously cross running water, which rain qualifies as.”

 

“ **Very good. But what is rainwater? Atmospheric vapor and cold. Such a pathetic thing for something as grand as _me_ to be weak to.”**

 

Then the Eternally Young Scarlet Moon chuckled darkly. “ **But what if I told you I was hiding something from you. A secret of imperious magnitude. A secret that if the Great Youkai Sage of Boundaries herself would wage war upon me. A secret that would, if known to the public, send the masses into a terror of panic. _No amount of garlic would keep the world safe if it ever got out that we vampires can_ –”**

 

“Vampires can train themselves to not be nauseous at the sight of running water. Just as you have fortified yourself against sunlight and the holy imagery of crosses.”

 

The World of Crimson scowled. The hand faltered.

 

“ ** _Yes_. _I_** –”

 

“You decided to rid yourself of the fear on your two-hundredth and thirty-seventh birthday, with- _ahem_ -limited success.”

 

The glare sent Sakuya’s way would have put the fear of the night in a human who cared to notice it. Remilia’s hand dropped.

 

“Have I told you this story already?”

 

“No, mistress. Meiling has. While crying in a world of gleeful inebriation about how far our mistress has come from her younger days. Did you know she’s a chatty drunk?” In spite of herself, Sakuya found herself smirking. “With such great detail did she regale me with the many hours the mistress would stand in her beachclothes, trembling in front of a personalized rain cloud, summoned forth by Rainbow Dragon magic. Occasionally the mistress would take a half-step forward, only to dash back to her dragon bodyguard, latch onto her legs and take small sippies of her favorite B type blood to recollect her courage for another attempt. And how once, when the mistress was engaged in such a ritual, the bodyguard ran through the rain, taking the mistress with her, and how the mistress squealed–”

 

Then she stopped, because the Scarlet Devil had Gungnir pointed at her throat, snarling like a hell beast.

 

\-----

 

Mokou coalesced once again into a human form across from Flandre.

 

“Such pretty colors, Miss no Mokou,” the vampire giggled. The end of her ponytail was smoking. “You’re really good at spell cards!”

 

“Thanks. To be honest, I’m a little rusty,” said Mokou, expectorating some ash in the process. “Don’t bother with ‘em most of the time.”

 

“Yeah,” said Flandre. “Pretty patterns or not, they do get boring after a while, huh?”

 

“Yeah,” said Mokou, thoughtfully.

 

They stared into each other’s eyes.

 

“Yeah,” said Flandre.

 

Keine moved briskly between them.

 

“Have you gotten that out of your systems?” she said. “Good. Now then, if you will be so kind as to join me at the table–”

 

“Hey, Miss no Mokou, you wanna see one of my favorite spell cards?” Flandre unconsciously fluttered a few inches over Keine’s horns.

 

Mokou matched the vampire’s height. “Hit me.”

 

“I’ll do my best!”

 

“–we can begin tonight’s lesson–”

 

Flandre raised her hand and shouted out:

 

“ **Lævateinn**!”

 

There was a snap of scarlet lightning and Flandre hefted what looked like a gnarled clock hand about as tall as she.

 

She turned to Mokou with another smile of abundant taxidermy quality.

 

“–it’s quite a long one, _so the sooner we get started_ –”

 

“Well?” said Mokou, grinning the grin that was, about seven times of ten, the Last Thing Kaguya Ever Saw.

 

“–THE SOONER THE LESSON WILL END–”

 

Flandre swung.

 

A tower of red energy soared out of Lævateinn, cutting into the walls, the floor and very nearly Mokou; she spun out of the blade’s arc, leaving one of her paper charms to get nicked, and hurled an array of burning pinions.

 

Repositioning her grip, Flandre moved for another slice–

 

Keine lifted her head; she had dived for cover the instant she felt the tinge of magic.

 

“Flandre!” she hollered, but not over the pouring debris. “ _You didn’t activate a spell card_!”

 

\-----

 

“ **I am the Vampire of the Heavy Fog, Remilia Scarlet, the Scarlet Devil and Mistress of Scarlet Devil Mansion**! **I shall not be spoken to in such a manner by the _human_ HELP**!”

 

Sakuya didn’t dare gulp.

 

The Divine Spear dissolved in a mist of scarlet bats.

 

Remilia snuffled.

 

“And I will have you know that when Meiling did that it was _very_ startling!”

 

Sakuya, failing at pretending not to smile, bowed deeply.

 

“Forgive me, mistress. You know I sometimes forget myself.”

 

“Indeed,” Remilia huffed.

 

“Quite the encouraging tale of stolid perseverance in the face of water,” complemented Sakuya.

 

“ _The point I was going to make_ is that there is nothing a vampire cannot adapt to with enough practice. Why does Miss Fujiwara not know anything about Flandre? Simple. It wouldn’t be fair to Flandre if the practice didn’t line up with the real thing at least somewhat. Introductions and subsequent discourse must be _natural_ if Flandre is to learn what the outside world is like. She’s not ready for the world, but at her own pace, she can be one day. It took me upwards of four hundred years to not burst into flames instantaneously in sunlight. On our little lunar escapade, I lasted, what, fifteen, twenty seconds? Mine and Flandre’s upbringing was classical. We are traditionalists by nature and pedigree. Except Flandre’s never had the…flexibility I do. She doesn’t understand we’re not in the sixteenth century anymore.”

 

Remilia clasped her hands behind her back, tilting her nose to the sky.

 

“I understand if this comes as a surprise, Sakuya, but we vampires can be extremely stubborn creatures.”

 

“Truly, shocking revelation, mistress.”

 

\-----

 

Mokou stretched a freshly Resurrected shoulder.

 

She was floating high above the floor of Flandre’s room. There was more space up here than there should have been, much like the rest of the Mansion; looks like someone wanted to make sure Flandre had plenty of space to spread her wings. Unlike the rest of the Mansion, however, it was presently half destroyed, with what was not destroyed burning.

 

There was no smoke; Mokou was careful in keeping her dealings in pyromancy, not pyrolysis. As Keine had said, only she could prevent forest fires, again.

 

Flandre was squinting at her from across the heat haze. Her head was on one side, analyzing.

 

What? Mokou didn’t care. She was damned if she was going to let an opening pass her by.

 

The vampire snapped out of whatever it was just in time to allow to blue fireball to splatter the wall, instead of her.

 

\-----

 

“Flandre’s learning, though,” Remilia continued. “And she learns like the devil when it involves death and destruction. It’s taken nearly half a millennium, an extremely literal ocean of blood, and a mountain of teddy bear fluff and toy soldiers, but, by gods, she’s starting to figure it out. You remember how positive the introduction between her and Koakuma went.”

 

“Exceptionally positive, mistress. It took Miss Knowledge only three days to put all of Koakuma’s bits back together.”

 

“Never was I more proud to call Flandre my sister,” said Remilia whimsically. “And she’s taken to spell cards so well. She didn’t even kill Marisa when they first met!”

 

“A laudable feat regardless of who accomplishes it.”

 

“She still tried, yeah, it’s the only thing she ever wants from a spell card duel. But the important thing is that she didn’t. Now she’s getting an _education_ , Sakuya, something Patche said was impossible not but fifty years ago.”

 

In the background, the sound of ice splintering on a fist was acutely audible. Cirno was on the offensive.

 

On her next sentence, a warmth stroked in Remilia’s chest.

 

“One step at a time, my little sister is coming out of that damned basement for good.”

 

\-----

 

On the ground, Keine growled. The ribbon on her horn was on cobalt fire.

 

Flandre’s room was in scorched shambles.

 

Fire oozed across the floor, flowing from the inferno dripping from the walls and ceiling.

 

Variegated magic rained down.

 

History repeats, indeed. All that was missing was the long black hair and the archer.

 

She crushed the flame on one end of her history scroll, toughly done with this silliness.

 

\-----

 

“And, really, nothing I have planned is as risky as you are making it out to be.”

 

“Possibly,” Sakuya conceded. “Miss Kamishirasawa does have extensive experience placating immortal beings of immeasurable destructive potential.”

 

\-----

 

Keine held Flandre and Mokou by their collars. Each of her words were punctuated by ramming their heads together.

 

“I!-Thought!-I!-Said!-Only!-One!-Round!”

 

Hakutaku muscles surging, she hurled both of them to the ground. Flandre bounced off Mokou’s stomach with a squeak and a jingle.

 

The room was still warm, but at least there was no more fire. Magic fire existed as long as its caster willed it, and was famously difficult to concentrate on with a grade two concussion.

 

“You are both getting detention, you hear me!?”

 

Mokou struggled to her elbows.

 

“You can’t send me to detention!” she shouted. “You’re not my real teacher!”

 

Keine loomed over Mokou as an Elder God brandishing a detention slip. The ancient terror that was the Head Mistress’s Office roiled off her like a flamethrower.

 

“ _You_ will sit there and let me teach this girl proper manners, you acrimonious shithead! Where does it stop with you? How do you think escalating to phoenix fire against a little girl is even remotely appropriate?”

 

“We were just having–”

 

The rest of Mokou’s plea smartly wilted under the intensity of Keine’s glare. There was such a thing as a fate worse than death. It typically went by the name of Miss Kamishirasawa.

 

Keine rounded on Flandre. “And _you_ , young lady, arson, destruction of property, murder, _and_ disobeying your teacher? Just wait until your sister hears about this.”

 

“Please no!” Flandre begged.

 

But a teacher is numb to a child’s cries.

 

“Civility lesson number two.” Keine picked up Flandre by the front of her blouse and shoved the remittent vampire into Mokou’s chest. “You two are going to _sit_ there and _hug_ out your differences and pretend to be normal, _well-adjusted_ people! In _fact_ …”

 

Keine strode to the history scroll, plucked her brush and wrote:

 

“ **And then Fujiwara no Mokou and Flandre Scarlet ceased fighting and began to hug**.” She glanced up. “Have I made myself clear, children?”

 

“Keine, you can’t do this to me,” Mokou continued to protest, entirely in vain.

 

“And don’t do so much as _think_ about maiming the other unless you want to stand in–” Keine’s red eyes flashed like needles that knew creativity “–The Corner?”

 

Mokou and Flandre clung to each other fervently.

 

“ _No_ , _Miss Kamishirasawa_ ,” they quavered in unison.

 

\-----

 

“A sublime sight to see how Keine can brandish such a consummate blend of the indefatigable nature of humans and the imperious force of youkai,” said Remilia. “But no, there’s a much simpler safeguard. Sakuya, this is _my_ plan. When was the last time I was wrong about anything?”

 

“Well, mistress, there were those several occasions where you told me you don’t drink wine, which, while not technically wrong, is an objective misrepresentation of reality–”

 

Remilia stamped her foot, face instantly cracking into petulance.

 

“ _No_! How many times must I tell you? _That is a joke_!”

 

“I see.”

 

“It’s a vampire _classic_ and an absolute _side-splitter_ when told in the proper company!”

 

“My most heartfelt apologies. It was never my intention to drive you bats.”

 

“Really, Sakuya, one of these days you’re going to have to learn how to tell a joke.”

 

Sakuya smiled convivially. “Me? Tell a joke? Mistress, forgive me, but now you’re being absurd.”

 

They became aware of a whistle in the air.

 

Remilia leaned on her chair’s armrest. “Heads up.”

 

An unnecessary order. Sakuya was a maid who always kept her head up. She didn’t appear to move; she was just suddenly holding Cirno, who had recently been on a terminal velocity crash-course to Remilia’s location.

 

The fairy jerked and made a noise like a rubber hose clogging.

 

“Cirno! We were just talking about you,” said Remilia brightly. “That was your final hit, I believe?”

 

“Yep,” rasped Cirno, made a face, coughed out of sizeable ice lump and continued in a more normal voice: “I never liked the hit limitation rules. Goin’ ‘til con-ces-eon should be the only way to do spell cards. I still got plenty of Motivation in me.”

 

“Motivation?” inquired Remilia, on the Gensokyoite basis that anything where you could hear the capital letter was worth knowing.

 

“Yeah, y’know, the measure of yer drive to continue? Try to keep up, Scarlet. I’ve always said as long as ya feel like it, ya should be able to keep goin’. Yer unstoppable if ya have Motivation.” She rolled her eyes at Sakuya. “Ya can put me down anytime ya like, thanks.”

 

Sakuya released Cirno, who fell to the ground in a heap.

 

“Er,” said Cirno.

 

There was a motionless struggle. Remilia watched with polite amusement.

 

Eventually, Cirno gave a snort. “Fan _tastic_. Yer stupid maid broke my spine, Scarlet.”

 

“ _Dreadfully_ sorry,” said Remilia. “We shall capitulate to your unparalleled wisdom in the spheres of stupidity. All guests of the Mansion are to be given the utmost of hospitality at all times. As mistress of this house, I appoint Sakuya to rectify this misstep immediately.”

 

“Well, hurry it up. I don’t have al-”

 

But Cirno found herself unable to continue her thought, owning to the sudden lack of most of her throat.

 

She went limp. Her eyes lolled back. Her figure was melting into the grass.

 

Sakuya wiped the slush off a silver knife on her apron.

 

Frosty air billowed in. Water flowed back into form, flowed back to into color and froze.

 

Cirno hopped up, brushed the grass off her skirt and, considering she had an audience, did a tiny aerial backflip.

 

“Good as new,” she declared for concerned parties.

 

“Do not hesitate to call on me again,” said Sakuya brightly, turning the blade over. “It would be my extreme pleasure to serve you anytime.”

 

“Hey, Cirno! Good match,” said Hong Meiling, as she approached the company, smiling and thumbs tucked into her waistband. “Didn’t hurt you too bad, did I?”

 

Cirno shrugged. “Died a coupla times.”

 

“Nothing major, then? Glad to hear it. Now c’mon. Gotta escort you off the premises.”

 

“Hold, gate guard,” said Remilia. “It came to my attention that Cirno here has infiltrated Mansion property with _designs on my life_. And you know what that means.”

 

Before Cirno could react, Meiling had her scooped up in a hug. Meiling moved quick for a woman for whom the word ‘massive’ could be used as an adjective on any body part of choice. The certain parts of anatomy Cirno found herself struggling to breath between definitely fit the bill. Rather snugly.

 

“Oh. Man. You’re gonna love working here! Free food and board. Challenging work. Very flexible twenty-two hour work day. One day off every decade. Meet interesting people. Get put in the ground by aforementioned people. And the mistress personally made sure the company dental plan was fantastic!”

 

“What?” Cirno sputtered, surfacing from the twin lakes of bust. “What are yer talkin' about?”

 

Meiling frowned. “Remilia didn’t offer you a job?”

 

“Indeed I did not,” said Remilia. “Only a place at our table this evening. Do forgive any offence from assumptions, Cirno, but you never seemed to me the type to get ecstatic over beginning a career in domestic servitude.”

 

Cirno managed enough thrust velocity to escape the gravity from the dragon’s upper body. She hovered down next to Remilia and stared at her.

 

“Wait, so, ya hire people who try to kill ya?”

 

“Certainly. It shows initiative. Exactly what we like here at the Scarlet Devil Mansion.”

 

“…and yer not worried they’ll do it again?”

 

“I’m more worried they would not. I am well into my five hundreds. I need _something_ to keep me on my toes. Everyone does. Why do you think Marisa is still allowed? Patche’s invented more spells in past ten years then she has in the preceding eighty. Anyway, the offer for dinner still stands if you’re still hungry.”

 

“Eh. Sure. I’m always up for free food.”

 

“Wonderful! To use an old vampire expression, we, at the Scarlet Devil Mansion, adore _having_ …guests for dinner. Other people are very much a vampire’s lifeblood. Sakuya, attend to our guest in full capacity. And Meiling?” Remilia pointed a thumb to a distant garden. “A word in private, if you please.”

 

“Ooooo!” chorused Cirno, who did that in class all the time, and never ceased to not find it the epitome of repartee.

 

Despite this public condemnation, Meiling followed her mistress comfortably, assured by the certainty she hadn’t done anything wrong; she hadn’t remembered a knife being imbedded in her cranium for at least seven hours.

 

“Are they watching us?” said Remilia, once she was strategically blocked by Meiling’s bulk.

 

Meiling glanced back through her hair. “Nope. Sakuya’s attending to the guest. Cirno’s having a grand time demonstrating her newfound authority.”

 

“By doing what?” said the mistress primly.

 

“Juggling…” Meiling squinted, “one-hundred and forty…four knives.”

 

“Is that all? _Juggling_? Amateur. If _I_ was left in charge of some else’s servant I would be using their reality collapsing powers for something _far_ more interesting. Like a one-woman flamenco concert. Rest assured of that, Meiling.”

 

“My rest is always assured in your employ, mistress. One of the better aspects of the job, if I do say so.”

 

“Good…to…know…”

 

Remilia’s knees finally gave out, as she folded into Meiling’s waiting hands. Meiling let the silence calm the mistress’s raggedy breathing. She took the opportunity to take in the tiny figure. The details were hard to miss when you were looking for them. Her skin was clammy, amaranthine veins edged around eyeballs, her limbs were limp and heavy.

 

Meiling recognized the symptoms. She patted Remilia’s shoulder.

 

It was a while before Remilia stepped off, trembling noticeably. She smoothed the wrinkles in her dress.

 

“Thank you, Meiling.”

 

“Don’t mention it,” said Meiling.

 

“And please _don’t_ mention it. I have an Image to maintain. What would people say if they saw me as anything less than the refined Lady of Darkness you see before you?”

 

Meiling carefully kept her tone neutral.

 

“I doubt it would change their perceptions in the slightest, mistress.”

 

Remilia gave a small, grateful smile. “Kind of you to say.”

 

“Though night manipulating fate, huh?” said Meiling. “You know what helps most humans with that? A healthy prescription of pure ethanol. Want me to make a run to the kitchens?”

 

The smile turned dismal.

 

“But…I’m a vampire. We don’t drink…wine.”

 

“I wasn’t gonna suggest anything piddly like fermented grapes. Bring out the hard whiskey, why don’t - wha! Mistress! Are you alright?”

 

“… ‘m fine,” said the Scarlet Devil in a small voice.

 

“You sure? It looked like you wanted to break down again for a second there…”

 

“I’m fine!” There was a pale gleam as Remilia’s lips curled back. “Perfectly _fine_!”

 

Meiling looked her mistress up and down with compounded worry; a quick procedure, as Remilia was not in possession of large quantities of ‘up’. Remilia being perfectly fine meant something was troubling her deeply, and pursuing the topic was only going to fill Meiling’s near future with vast amounts of sharpness. In situations like this, the usual thing to do was to wait it out for a day or so, when Remilia’s vertiginous interest pool sloshed around to something else, which Meiling had never been comfortable doing. Willingly leaving someone grouchy was a crime she placed higher than murder, just equal with burglary and negligent flower trampling.

 

In her long life, Meiling had accrued many a technique to lift anyone’s spirits without them even being aware. If Hong Meiling was anything, it was a foursquare adherent to the healing powers of Small Talk.

 

“Bright moon tonight, huh mistress?”

 

“I guess,” said Remilia, staring across the garden.

 

“When was the last time you think you’ve seen a moon this bright?” pressed Meiling.

 

“The moon was fairly bright when I was on it.” Remilia’s face soured slightly as the reel of memories rewound themselves on that series of events.

 

“I _still_ can’t believe I lost that match against What’s Her Name,” she said. “Yo-yohime, I think it was.”

 

“You could have always manipulated fate,” suggested Meiling

 

“Could’ve, but I don’t do anything more complex than bad luck for my opponents.”

 

“Oh yeah. I forgot about that. You don’t manipulate fate on the base level anymore. To be honest, it always did strike me as a little cheaty, too.”

 

“There is nothing in victory without adversity,” averred Remilia. “No drama. No thrill. No opportunities. It’s _boring_.” Remilia managed to fit more contempt into one word than Meiling had seen her expresses in three hundred years. “Not knowing in advance is much more fun.”

 

“Adversity, huh? You mean like when we tried to expand our influences?”

 

“Please. The Scarlet Mist Incident scarcely registered as more than a rigmarole. Even if it hadn’t, I’ve gotten stronger since then. When I say drama and thrills, I mean it. Presently, I am far beyond rigmaroles, balderdash and hogwash. I’m talking about Shenanigans, Miss Hong.”

 

Meiling whistled. “Shenanigans? Those are some _scissors_ you’re running with, mistress.”

 

“I shouldn’t have to tell you that Flandre is worth it.”

 

“Your Lunar Conquest wasn’t?”

 

“Not in the slightest.”

 

“But you were planning it for centuries!”

 

The vampire shrugged. “At least I got to go, and you’ve got to admit the pool in the library was novel.”

 

“Well, what’s been so hard about tonight?”

 

“What’s been _easy_?” Remilia shook her head. “It’s taken months to set up so no one would get suspicious. Certain people need to be in certain places they normally have no business being. _And_ _then_ there’s Flandre. Her fate’s never been any sort of malleable.”

 

Remilia crouched down to a bed of flowers so white they were almost blue and sighed before going on, “Everything’s come to a head tonight. There’s so much to keep in place. If _one_ link in the chains of fate develops the tiniest of cracks, things are going to spiral out of my control and end up worse than they already are. I’ve only one contingency if, as the great poet Saigyouji would say, the excreta converge upon the whirligig, and it probably won’t work. There’s no doubling down on Reimu or Marisa this time.”

 

“Do you like the orchids?” said Meiling, ever the rainbow in the storm. “I did my best to get them the color of your hair. I’m really proud of the result of the cross-pollination. They’re there in case you ever want a flower bed in the shape of your head again, except with proper colors this time.”

 

“They’re very nice. And I’ll consider it. Such a decision is not lightly made,” said Remilia, she rose and turned to Meiling. “You have a part to play tonight as well. I’ll be frank, you’re not going to be pleased with it. Neither is Yukari. Oh boy, is she going to be rancorous in the morning with how much I’m risking the Barrier.”

 

Though the talk hadn’t been very small, Remilia did look better. It never ceased to amaze Meiling how quickly Remilia bounced back from anything. Confront her with a barren wasteland of failure, and all she’d see was flat land perfect for construction. All sufficiently large egos had a degree of elasticity to them to keep them from collapsing under their own weight, but very few to the extent of Remilia’s. What had once started out as a catastrophe of an invasion seamlessly transitioned into recreation of the sea, which in turn blossomed into a spot for the Scarlet Devil Mansion on the front page of the local paper.

 

Meiling smiled helpfully. “Mistress, I am always prepared to aid you, but before you give me my orders, what, exactly, am I not going to be pleased with?”

 

Remilia told her.

 

Eventually Meiling said, very quietly, “Wow. Um…okay. Yeah. I’m–I’m not pleased with that, alright. But…she’ll be fine afterwards, right?”

 

“Hard to say, really. The chains of fate can link together only so far before they start twisting. But you know how dense that one is. Don’t expect a _state change_ anytime soon, a-ha!”

 

To Remilia’s surprise, Meiling did not appear satisfied with this answer.

 

“I’ve done all I could to minimize butterfly effects,” tried Remilia. “Fate should maintain its directed course so long as Mokou’s still alive. And if all else fails you, again, will be prepared with the contingency. Flandre will at least hesitate killing _you_.”

 

This, again, was apparently not what Meiling was seeking.

 

“Look, I asked you if our measures had plateaued in effectiveness, and you said yes. We need something direct. Her wards can’t ‘accidentally’ fail anymore; I can’t call down another meteor this soon or she’ll get suspicious.”

 

“I know,” said Meiling. “It’s just…I know.”

 

She ambled toward the mansion’s outer perimeter. Storm clouds cracked over her head.

 

“Guess I better get started on that rain, then.”

 

\-----

 

The whirling blades had reached a critical juggling mass by the time Remilia ambled back, taking extreme care to not show she was taking extreme care in avoiding swaying.

 

Cirno stood looking at home in the gale-force wind the maelstrom of knives produced, dress billowing around her and grinning enthusiastically.

 

At the center of it all, Sakuya was yawning.

 

“Okay, that’s enough fun everyone,” shouted Remilia over the tempest. “Back to work, Chief Maid. Unless you need reminding as to who’s clock you are on?”

 

The knives vanished. Sakuya bowed gratefully, said, “Never, mistress,” unnaturally loud in the sudden sound vacuum, and wasn’t there anymore.

 

“Wha’d ya have to go an’ do that for?” said Cirno, as if Remilia frightened away a particularly interesting frog.

 

“And bring us something to snack on, would you please?” vociferated Remilia towards the Mansion.

 

“My Chief Maid does not exist to be entertainment, Cirno.”

 

Cirno put her head to one side.

 

“ _She doesn’t_?”

 

“She has many other duties.” Remilia swept a hand theatrically. “As you–”

 

Between Remilia and Cirno a table with a small platter of hors d'oeuvres appeared, and behind the two, chairs.

 

“–can see. Thank you, Sakuya!” Remilia collapsed maybe a little too quickly into the seat.

 

Cirno, luckily, had not noticed this break of character. She was preoccupied regarding a betoothpicked meat with intense suspicion.

 

“Don’t like cold cuts?” said Remilia, steadily reaching for one herself. “Figured you’d be their biggest fan.”

 

“This ain’t _human_ , is it?”

 

“Really now, Cirno!”

 

“Alright, alight. Don’t get yer bloomers in a knot.”

 

“Human isn’t hors d'oeuvre meat!”

 

“I’m only askin’ ‘cuz–”

 

“Unless you’re talking finger sandwiches, but that’s very specific.”

 

“-my neighbor; y’know, the mermaid what lives in Misty Lake?”

 

“Hm? Oh, no. I don’t, but do go on.”

 

“There’s a mermaid what lives in Misty Lake and she’s my neighbor,” said Cirno academically. “Nice gal, but a wet blanket if there ever was one. And ever since, like, three years ago, she’s bin doin’ this thing where she sings at night to lure in humans an’ eat ‘em. An’, I mean, good on the ol’ fish fer growin’ a back bone, an’ I know a gal’s gotta eat, but the humans she captures, they scream so _loud_. All hours of the night with the singin’ and the screamin’. Yeah, they stop eventually. But I’m already awake by then, y’know?”

 

“Modern society,” commiserated Remilia. “Some humans are just so inconsiderate. Yukari should do something.”

 

“It’s gotten better ever since she figured out yer suppos’d to rip ‘em apart _after_ you drag ‘em into the water, but I still can’t think about humans nowadays without feelin’ like I jus’ woke up. That’s the worst feelin’, ain’t it?” said Cirno. She tore the meat off its skewer.

 

“These oar-dervs ain’t bad,” she decided, flicking the toothpick across the lawn. “Be better with custard. When’s the rest of the grub getting’ here?”

 

Remilia swallowed and probed the in between spaces of her fangs with her own toothpick.

 

“Given Sakuya’s mastery of the temporal flow, and considering the very little she needs real time for…I’d say fifteen minutes?”

 

“ _Fifteen minutes_?” Cirno was aghast. “You expect me to sit here and do nofin fer a _whole half-hour_?”

 

Remilia smiled as a vampire does: smooth and sharp.

 

“Absolutely not. I will not be called a disingenuous host. More than once, at least. My Mansion is open to you. Explore to your heart’s content. Sakuya will find you when it’s time. No matter where, or when, you may end up.” She held up a finger. “Except there is one area you must not go. It is under renovation and could be immensely dangerous to non-Mansion personnel. You may find a door down where there had previously not been. _You are not to enter under any circumstances_. No going there whatsoever, Cirno.”

 

“Uh-huh.” Cirno nodded slowly. “And, uh, where, exactly, would I find such a place? Um. I, uh, need to know so, uh, I can make sure to avoid, um, avoid it. Yeah. Yeah, totally.”

 

Not long after, fairy parted from vampire. Cirno had to suppress the urge to chuckle. An excellent performance, anyone would have been fooled by it; even the great and terrible Remilia Scarlet bought in with nary the drop of thespian effort. And why wouldn’t Remilia be fooled? That’s what you get when you just sit around on your laurels all day, just bragging that you were great without putting in the effort. How depressing. But not everyone could be as amazing as Cirno was.

 

Meanwhile, completely aware of this internal monologue’s existence, Remilia sat back and savored the silence like warm blood on a chilly winter’s morning. You had to savor that which was guaranteed not to last.

 

Then, because there was always space for formalities in Remilia’s universe, she raised an hors d’oeuvre to existence at large.

 

“To your memory, Cirno the Ice Fairy.”

 

And she cleanly scarfed down the dead animal matter.

 

“…actually, they would be better with custard.”


	2. Raised Stakes

Mokou and Flandre had ceased hugging some while ago, and no one’s skull had been caved in. The husk that was Mokou’s sense of self-consequence labeled this as ‘Progress.’ Flandre, declaring the hug to be, “Boring, no offense,” had relocated behind the human and ensconced herself in Mokou’s tresses as if they were an ashen blanket fort. The vampire was getting a kick out them. Apparently, it wasn’t every day she played with hair bigger than she was.

 

Mokou watched impassively from amidst the rubble as Keine, seated at the small table, dipped her brush in ink and continued writing. She hadn’t looked up once.

 

There was always history to write, and there seemed to be more of it these days than ever before. The nights of the full moon had been sleepless before, now with these private sessions, Keine hardly kept up.

 

It was strange in and of itself that Keine, normally wary of youkai with power and an agenda, would loan her services exclusively to one who had both in excess. In Keine’s own words, Remilia was deranged, conniving, had an oppressive sense of entitlement and held no regard for the sanctity of human life, all of which meant she was essentially human already, so exceptions had been made for her and…well…

 

Keine might have gone insane from the pressure of writing history and tutoring on the full moon if she hadn’t had her motivation. Mokou understood the need. As a sheltered daughter of a noble house, she had known astonishingly little about being an immolating berserker drunk on fury, but that hadn’t stopped her from giving it her best shot. Oh sure, Keine could go on about the nobility of the profession and how instructing those children who would otherwise never receive it was a teacher’s duty and that she was doing this for a better future where humans and youkai aren’t killed by the other on basis of archaic tradition and yadda, yadda, yadda. Mokou had been around that block too many times to be fooled by shiny new bicycles. Keine was human to her core, always more human than she was willing to believe. And all humans, specifically the increasingly rare subgenus of them generally known as ‘teachers,’ had their buttons that could be pressed; those little triggers that could completely bend one to another’s will.

 

Access to the Mansion Library had been too good to pass up. Not even the Child of Miare had been permitted entrance. Miss Knowledge had been keen to share her materials with a fellow intellectual like Keine, as long as they were returned in a timely fashion. Those textbooks? Of course. That telescope? Certainly. This grimoire detailing the methodology to break into the ninth dimension? The kids’ll love it, Miss Kamishirasawa. Just bring them back. Please.

 

Miss Knowledge had been bizarrely adamant on that point.

 

Every bit of this tutoring deal was not without the indecisive disappointment of Mokou. She had for a few years now taken upon herself the imperious task of… _unwinding_ Keine after a hard night of making history. While Mokou had not as much time as she used to, Keine compensated with additional intensity. Both ends had their pros and cons worth weighing.

 

But all that had to wait. Even Fujiwara no Mokou daren’t interrupt Keine in the middle of work. Keine didn’t have the time to bother with the niceties Houraisan and her doctor did. What she did have was a pragmatic, reasonable and, above all, _solid_ head on her shoulders, and she wielded it with efficiency. Usually at close quarters and high velocities.

 

“Miss no Mokou, you have long hair. How do you wash the blood out?” came the voice of Flandre.

 

“Huh? What?” said Mokou, broken from her musings.

 

“I mean, mine only goes to my shoulders and Bath Time lasts _hours_ if it’s really messy,” Flandre went on.

 

Mokou nearly burst out laughing. “I like you, Flandre Scarlet. You have the decency to cut to the chase.”

 

“What chase? Why else would you wash your hair?” said Flandre, thoroughly fazed.

 

“Search me. Can’t go out of my house these days without werewolves asking me for hair care advice. I keep telling her I don’t have any, but that makes her think I’m hiding something. I offer to light her on fire, but she doesn’t want that either. Why can’t people be more honest like you?” She shrugged in manner indicative of enigma. “I still remember when soap was brought here, you know. I didn’t trust it then, and I don’t trust it now. Oh, this bar of animal fat and acid is going to make me clean if I mix it with water? Ha! Yeah, right. I was reborn in flame at night, but it wasn’t last night.” Mokou reached up and tightened the largest paper charm holding her hair back. “My hair’s all the Hourai Elixir’s doing. Something to do with how it defines immortality. Some kind of…metaphysical transcendence. It…like…puts a perfect copy of myself back into reality if I die. Or something? I know what it does, not so much how it does it. Um. If you could dirty me up a little bit, I could show you–”

 

Mokou felt the unmistakable sensation of her arm being torn off. The side of her torso became sticky.

 

“Is that dirty enough, Miss no Mokou?”

 

“Perfect,” wheezed Mokou. “I like the way you think…no nonsense…so just…dab that around the old mane a bit” –something warm slimed down Mokou’s back– “there you go, thank you…and then we…” Mokou raised two fingers to her chest and disintegrated her heart. Her corpse slouched.

 

The next minutes were spent by Flandre scouring Mokou’s body while casting surreptitious glances at Keine. The hakutaku ostensibly was deeply invested in her scrawling. The last thing Flandre needed now was for Miss Kamishirasawa to see her friend broken again. One detention was more than enough.

 

Hmm. Miss no Mokou had said, ‘metaphysical transcendence,’ so did that mean…no, no, no…that was impossible. The Eye _was_ there, clear as night, beneath the (Flandre’s nose scrunched) rather rank blood. Flandre wasn’t imagining before. She could _see_ it. At the same time, she couldn’t touch or sense it. Just trying was giving her a headache, robbing the feeling out of her arm and was making her eyes do funny loops in their sockets.

 

Flandre licked her lips in excitement. This game of Squeeze was going to have to get _inventive_. Why hadn’t Remilia told her education was this much fun sooner?

 

Then Resurrection flourished out.

 

By the time Flandre rubbed the spots out of her eyes, Mokou was running her fingers through her immaculately silky hair.

 

“Perfect copy. No more blood anywhere,” she said. “See?”

 

“Not yet,” said Flandre, squinting. “But you mean to tell me, you can just die instead of taking a bath?” She sighed. “I wish _I_ could die. It sounds so useful!”

 

There was a lilt of laughter, and a voice said, “Why did I ever think you two wouldn’t get along?”

 

Fladre and Mokou turned to Keine. She was smiling in a serene, contented way, as one who has happened upon some kittens play-roughhousing, and rolling up the history scroll.

 

“Consider your detention officially ended. If you would care to take a seat, Miss Scarlet, we can _finally_ begin tonight’s lesson in etiquette.” She tucked the scroll into her dress pocket and added upon surveying the pair of expressions looking across at her. “As I have been instructed to do by your sister.”

 

“Oh. Right,” said Mokou in such a tone to convey disgruntlement that no one was going to be doing any more dying. “That.”

 

“Yes, Miss Kamishirasawa,” drawled Flandre much in the same voice.

 

Keine, a teacher of kindergarteners, paid the familiar tone no mind.

 

“We shall begin with tea ceremony, a fine starting point as any for teaching composure, patience and effort made manifest. Tonight, I am going to cover the basic themes, principles and history. I had hoped we would have more time once we had worked out our excitement from our systems, but alas. So, I am afraid I must be brusque on some points. Nevertheless, we will put the fundamentals into practice next month, which your homework will prepare you for.”

 

“Er. I’ll leave you two to it,” said Mokou, for whom the intricacies of ‘Homework’ continued to be viewed largely as soap of another name.

 

“Miss Fujiwara is _going_ be joining us for these next sessions,” said Keine. “She is here by request by your sister because her knowledge of classical court practices is consummate. And once you have this one mastered, Flandre, we can move onto more advanced topics.”

 

“Advanced topics? What sort, exactly, of advanced topics did you have in mind, Ki– er, Miss Kamishirasawa?” said Mokou, pulling up a chair because she knew what was good for her. She couldn’t definitively state what she’d had for breakfast three days ago, or if she even did. Going back a thousand years may require some prompting.

 

“Calligraphy, flower arrangement, advanced-placement chopsticks. The usual noble pursuits. Nothing I’m sure you didn’t go through. Do you have anything else to add?”

 

Mokou looked sidelong at Flandre, who had settled into a chair only slightly too large for her and was kicking her feet over empty air. The bloodstained visage responded with a shining smile, complete with two inch fangs, so huge and innocent that sanity hadn’t had the heart to corrupt it.

 

“She’d make one hell of a poet,” said Mokou.

 

“Hm. Poetry. Historical records of the values of a culture. I honestly hadn’t considered that. Thank you, Miss Fujiwara. And I will thank you further not to swear again. Flandre is scarcely five hundred and in a very impressionable stage in her life. We wouldn’t want her to pick up any bad habits, now would we?”

 

Once more, Mokou glanced at the vampire. This time, it went unreciprocated; Flandre was too preoccupied sniffing at the steaks of viscera vigorously splattered on her skirt to notice.

 

“Right. No bad habits,” said Mokou.

 

“Right,” agreed Keine sternly and spoke her next words in a historian’s accent: “Now then. Flandre. I will confess straightaway that I am no teaist, but one must not need be in order to appreciate the unity of oneself with nature emblematic of the very core of Cha Dao. The core itself is comprised of two separate, yet fully entwined, concepts–”

 

_GRUURRURLRLRR_

Keine held her breath as, because there was always, _always_ one, Mokou placed a fist in front of her mouth and pretending not to laugh before she beamed glassily.

 

“Something on your mind, Miss Scarlet?”

 

Flandre was sitting a little sunken, and, for the first time tonight, smiling with something other than the purest delectation: embarrassment.

 

“Haha. Um. Sorry, Miss Kamishirasawa. Playing Squeeze really works up the appetite, you know, and I haven’t really eaten anything since Sakuya brought me my breakfast, and with all this blood scent around…”

 

As fleeting as a lightning bolt in the daylight, another expression crossed Keine’s face, one known to exist exclusively on teachers; the well-rumored ‘I have not come all the way, compromised my schedule, watched you kill my girlfriend countless time and endured you ignoring me only to have another lesson become lost to the ages because of the _pre_ - _lunch jitters_ ,’ expression.

 

“Mokou, do you mind? Just enough to get her sated,” said Keine. “Vampires don’t drink youkai blood.”

 

“Youkai blood is full of Empty Calories and Trans Fantasy Acids, and is not Something a Lady of My Standing Should Indulge Herself in,” said Flandre. It sounded like a recitation. “Not that I’m sure you don’t taste really good, though, Miss Kamishirasawa,” Flandre went on, by way of apology.

 

Keine’s beam now boarded on ‘quartz-like.’

 

“It’s no problem,” said Mokou, unbuttoning the top two buttons on her blouse and pulling the collar down. “Take whatever you want. It’ll be back soon enough.”

 

Flandre rubbed her hands together as she stared at the exposed flesh. Any vampire knew of the treasure that was a maiden’s neck, and there was nothing like living in a basement to teach one the value of rarities. Flandre was going to have to be real delicate-ladylike for this…

 

“Thank you! So, as I was saying, Cha Dao is made of two separate concepts called–”

 

But right then, a thought struck Keine, at about the same Mokou’s head bounced off her skull, but just before blood from the vacant neck sprayed her cheek. Perhaps starting with chopsticks had been the sensible plan after all.

 

\-----

 

Meiling was making acceptable progress, for her sensibilities. Flandre could destroy anything, but she hadn’t figured out magic rain. Normally, it was only necessary to cover the mansion proper, but tonight no quarter could be afforded.

 

Slightly over two-thirds of the grounds was drenched in downpour, but the dragon’s mind was elsewhere while she worked; for once, not dreamland. She couldn’t help it; keeping the things valuable to them safe was draconian instinct.

 

Meiling liked to think she had a decent understanding of fate; it was that thing you tried to prevent, and by explicitly rebuking its portend, you made it come to fruition. It was amazing to her how so many folk smarter than her couldn’t grasp that. Her knowledge more or less ended there. She’d never had the desire to look further into the mechanics. Call her an anti-intellectual, but she preferred to keep her mind in one piece and three dimensions, thank you very much.

 

Fate was rigid, cantankerous and, above all, curmudgeon. Set in its ways. Whenever you hammered at it, no matter how hard, it would sway back into place; you had to ply it zealously if you wanted to get any shape at all out of it, let alone the non-Euclidean nightmare angles Remilia was sculpting out of the terror her younger sister’s Fate had been since before she was born. Doing anything to Flandre’s fate was like guiding a bandsaw with your teeth. Yet it would be with sororal honor brimming in her heart that Remilia would tell anyone that Flandre was now a _probable_ cause of the End of Days, no longer the certainty she started off as.

 

And, indeed, like a bandsaw left permanently on ‘tear everything to shreds,’ no matter how skillful the steering, one way or another something had to gum up the blades to make them stop.

 

Magic coursed down Meiling’s arm and an additional raincloud blossomed out of nothingness. An inner glow of a rainbow could only just be discerned. She took a few steps down the line and distractedly focused her magic.

 

Gensokyo may have welcomed all, but no one told newcomers that the saying had an asterisk at the end. The boundary the Youkai That Lurks in the Boundary was most familiar with the end of was the one of patience. Everything had its limits. You had to play nice if you wanted to stay. A phrase the young mistress regrettably ceased to comprehend after the first word. The only reason Yukari permitted the risk of Flandre was because Remilia continued to keep everything within the boundary of tolerable losses.

 

Gensokyo was a peaceful society now, and, like all peaceful societies, was constructed upon the solid foundation of a mountain of bodies and maintained through routine violence. So long as this hard-wrought balance was in place, everyone could look forward to a better future. A better future built from sacrifice. Willing or not.

 

A philosophy the mistress subscribed to.

 

Death was…more acceptable to Remilia when people died for a cause. Preferably hers. Preferably, that is, aiding Flandre.

 

A cause was _vital_. A youkai without a cause was hard-pressed to be anything greater than an animal with a concept of food storage.

 

Another raincloud bloomed. Another rainbow could barely be seen. Flandre could destroy anything, but she hadn’t figured out magic rain.

 

Yet.

 

\-----

 

Too much, Keine felt, of the teacher’s time was spent holding her students’ hair as they vomited blood in the corner. Too much entirely.

 

“Miss Kamishirasawa!” Flandre wailed between wrenches. “Your friend tastes like ashes and repressed anger!” She heaved again.

 

It had been one of the many picnics Keine and Eirin Yagokoro busied themselves at while their charges were off playing that the doctor had let slip that it was, in theory, possible for anyone to obtain the effects of the Hourai Elixir by consuming the part of the body the medicine was stored, the liver. ‘In theory,’ because no one had ever attempted it. Dr. Yagokoro had seen the writing in the chemical formulas and, to prevent immortality from being granted to the undeserved, had made any Hourai immortal taste _terrible_ ; the Choujuu Gigaku equivalent of gustatory chemoreception, according to the Brain of The Moon

 

“I know. Mokou has a lot of bad blood,” said Keine. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

 

“Whadya mean you forgot? You eat the lady often?”

 

“What!? No! I mean–no! I was–was told!” Keine could feel the ends of her ears growing hot. “That’s not the sort of thing you ask adults! It’s private! Tasteless!”

 

“You sure? ‘cause yer friend there had to have plenty of taste in her to do _this_ to someone.”

 

“That’s not what I meant, Cirno! Wait, _Cirno_?”

 

“Oh, and I’m just meant to _know_ , am I?” Cirno practically sneered. “Here’s what I don’t understand about you youkai: ye sit in yer mansions, and on yer mountains, and sailin’ yer flyin’ temple-boats in the sky, incitin’ holy wars, rebell’ns, nu’clear hell on earth…Incidents all up and down the wazoo, and fer what? Gettin’ witches and shrine maidens to kick yer dang teeth in? And ye go on, prancin’ all over the gaff like ye own the whole of Gensok’yo. Y’ain’t the only ones this dirt is for, y’know. Where are the fairies in yer world view? Just ‘cause we ain’t youkai don’t mean we ain’t got rights!”

 

“ _Cirno_?”

 

“Humans, too, I guess, but they bar’ly last eighty years, sos me thinks we’re good to ignore them, seein’ how they’ll be dif’rent in no time round.”

 

“ _Cirno_?”

 

Flandre coughed moistly and Cirno craned her neck to view the pool of black bile, then appeared to regret it.

 

“‘sides, I’ve got a friend who sez food always tastes better with company. And she runs a food cart _and can do long division_ , so she knows what she’s talkin’ about.”

 

“ _Cirno_?”

 

“Basic’ly, what I’m sayin’ is: if ye need more friends fer yer private adult meals, I’m game. Dinner also tastes better when someone else cooks it.”

 

“ _Cirno_ , _what are you doing_?!”

 

Instinctually, Cirno snapped to attention and shouted, “Nothing!”

 

Then she tangibly recoiled. There was only one woman who, with a call of the name, could make an undying personification of nature question everything they thought they knew about fates worse than death and bladder control.

 

“ _Miss K_? Wo-ow. Mystia was right. You take off a girl’s hat and you really _can’t_ recognize her. Didn’t bet on you havin’ horns under that box, though.” Cirno sighed. “Looks like I owe Rumia _another_ twenty mon.”

 

“Cirno,” said Keine hoarsely, “what are you doing here?”

 

“Explorin’. Remilia said I could. Hey, sorry fer callin’ you a youkai. But I guess that’s on me fer bein’ presumpt’us. Oh. And condolences.” She indicated to the shorter corpse of Fujiwara no Mokou. “Humans get upset when other humans die. I’m _certain_ on that one.”

 

“You need to leave. Now.” Cirno felt a forceful palm on her back. “You are in huge trouble here–”

 

“For what!” cried Cirno. “There’s not even a class for me to talk in!”

 

“ _Now_ , Cirno. While she hasn’t noticed you.”

 

“Alright, alright! Whatever. I’m goin’–”

 

Then something vice-like closed on the fairy’s arm.

 

And Cirno, whose body temperature alone could preserve beef, was shocked to find a chill dancing across her spine.

 

She turned to face a smile that might have been passably affable were it not for the blood and bile covered fangs, or the eyes beyond them.

 

“Well, hello,” wheezed the thing attached to it. “Are you a new friend?”

 

The figure stood straight, not taking her gaze off Cirno.

 

“My name is Flandre,” it persisted. “What’s yours?”

 

Cirno squirmed. She was an entity of nature, and being this close to this whateverthehell was filling her with decidedly unnatural feelings. The stare was the worst part. She had lived in Gensokyo for a long time, a place where finding anyone playing with a full deck was a gamble in and of itself, and no one, not even Ms. Kazami, had ever given her the look this thing was giving her; like she was some toy without its batteries in yet.

 

“Uh. Hey. Name’s Cirno. An’ ya can let go of my arm anytime ya please.”

 

The girl looked down. Above and below her grip were two different colors. She giggled and let go.

 

“Sor-ry. I get so excited when I meet new friends! Let alone two friends in one night!”

 

“Don’t you worry about it,” said Cirno diffidently. “Happens to the best of us, probably. Well, I best be pushin’ off. Remilia’s expectin’ me back any second now.”

 

Flandre’s wings flapped in jubilation. “Sister sent you?”

 

Sister? Huh. This girl _did_ look a lot like Remilia, when you knew where to look, most notably in the teeth department.

 

“Yep,” said Cirno. “She said I could walk ‘round. Said I could anywhere. Anywhere at all. Gave me _kart blanch_ , ‘n everything.”

 

“Would you like to play danmaku, then?” said Flandre.

 

Cirno, who had been making steady progress backward, stopped midstep.

 

“You know the spell card rules?” she impugned.

 

“Of course I know how to play the pattern-making game!” giggled Flandre. “Remilia told me _all_ about it. A very modern game for the modern lady. And, _apparently,_ the only game I can play now.”

 

As Cirno took a pace forward, Keine’s expression of relief dissolved under the acid of horror.

 

“Are y’any good?” said Cirno.

 

“Pretty good. What about you?”

 

Even in the face of death, old habits die hard. Cirno puffed out her chest and jerked a thumb to herself.

 

“Am I _good_? I’m the Strongest In Gensokyo!”

 

Flandre Scarlet regarded Cirno as a jet pilot regards a pigeon that just challenged him to a race.

 

“Really?” she said.

 

“Yeah really!” snapped Cirno, miffed by the lukewarm return. “My Icicle Fall is _easily_ the most famous spell card in Gensokyo! Ain’t that right Miss K-hey!”

 

This was in response to Keine grabbing Cirno’s hand and all but dragging her to the heavy magic door.

 

Only Cinro’s quick reflexes in throwing her arm out saved her from being shoved out into certain safety.

 

“What’s the big idea?” she demanded.

 

“Give us a minute, please, Flandre?” Keine said sweetly to the nonplussed vampire, then turned to Cirno with a grave expression.

 

“You need to listen to me,” she hissed. “Leave. Now. Flandre is not a nor–”

 

“Like hell! I’ve been challenged! I ain’t no coward!

 

“ _Listen to me for once_! If you stay here, you are going to die. _And_ you used a double negative.”

 

“Um…yeah? Fairies die in danmaku duels all the time, Miss K. Like, I challenged Reimu last week for some meat buns that got donated to her shrine, and she killed me more times than I can count.”

 

“So, more than eighteen, then?” Any teacher worth her salt held a keen perception on her students’ limits in times of crisis.

 

“ _Way_ more. It might have even have been _twelve_.”

 

“Meat buns are one thing and Reimu Hakurei is certainly another. Neither are Flandre Scarlet. You are not Mokou. You haven’t seen what she’s seen. I refuse to allow you to die over your stupid pride!”

 

“Mokou? Was that Suspenders Redpants’s name? You better believe I ain’t her. Difference between us bein’ my bucket comes back after it’s been kicked,” said Cirno, someone who died for her stupid pride daily. She caught Keine’s eye and adroitly misinterpreted its meaning. “Don’t worry yer human head. Y’ain’t used to seein’ people die in front of ya. I get it. I’m a _fairy_ , Miss K. What’s the _worst_ that can happen to _me_?”

 

“I don’t know,” Keine conceded. “But historically, whenever some says that exact phrase the worst ends up being–”

 

There was a sound like a baseball bat striking home.

 

The light in Keine’s eyes dimmed.

 

She panted once, sharply, and collapsed on her side. Flandre lowered Lævateinn.

 

“Your minute is up,” she said, her face dire. “Play Time waits for no one, Miss Kamishirasawa.”

 

And as if she hadn’t just brained Keine Kamishirasawa, Flandre turned to Cirno with an expectant smile, which Cirno returned hesitantly.

 

She produced her deck of spell cards, and the nervousness melted away.

 

What did she have to be concerned about? Miss K was in this girl’s way and she resolved the problem. That was what you _did_ in Gensokyo. There were _rules_ for that. A bit odd that she just smacked Keine on the back of the head like that, instead of unleashing a magical assault like any regular person would do, but to each her own. That was the beauty of spell cards. Everyone had their own twist.

 

Besides, Cirno was, of course, the Strongest. Leave no challenge unanswered, no fight left wanting. What _was_ the worst that could happen? She’d die? Pfft. A true fairy had no fear of death! If you were dead just because you’d died, you weren’t trying hard enough.

 

“How many cards ya want?” said Cirno. “Two? Five? _Four_ , even?”

 

Grinning like a shark in the presence of a minnow, Flandre stuck out a hand. Held between her fingers was-

 

“One. One little card left all alone.”

 

Cirno shrugged, shuffled through her deck, selected Icicle Fall and stowed the rest.

 

“You first, Scarlet. I’m feelin’ magnaninini’mous.”

 

“Are you?” said Flandre, grinning toothily.

 

“See, I believe in givin’ those below me a fair chance.”

 

“Then I will not dishonor your courtesy.” The vampire’s unspeakable weapon crackled with crimson energy. “ **Taboo: Lævateinn**!”

 

“That’s more like it!” Cirno spread her wings. “Give me yer best shot-”

 

Cirno cut herself off with a soft, futile gasp.

 

It was a mediocre shot at best, but it was an exemplary stab.

 

“Normally, I hate playing with fairies,” said Flandre excitedly. It’d been centuries since she’d properly impaled anyone! “What’s the point, if they’re just going to come back? It’s not fair if you can lose, but you can’t. What fun is a game no one can win? There has to be a goal, achievable through hardship, do you not agree?”

 

In counterpoint, Cirno coughed up ice water.

 

“And now there is,” Flandre continued. “Miss no Mokou showed me quite a few things. I’ll be able to win every game of Squeeze ever. I’ve been working on my theory all night, but I can’t quite seem to get it right with Miss no Mokou. You fairies, however, your infinite coins are more…natural. More real. A much more ideal _in vivo_ test.”

 

She dismissed Lævateinn, and, before Cirno could fall to her knees, picked up the fairy by her neck and held her at arm’s length. To Flandre’s surprise, but mostly hilarity, her playmate chuckled raggedly.

 

“Okay,” croaked Cirno, “I’ll confess, that’s a pretty solid first attack. Could do with you shuttin’ up anytime ya please. I’m gonna have a field day beatin’ you into the dirt. Me Motivation’s still strong. See, I’ve been in a war, girl. You ain’t seen nofin until you’ve seen lives bein’ staked on pranks. Catchin’ my drift? Bring my Motivation down all ya want. I’ll be _back_ , Strongester than before! If ya think ya even stand a chance, ya have to destroy my Motivation!”

 

Flandre’s smile broadened. The fairy thought it could win. What fun when they clung to hope until the end!

 

Flandre tightened her grasp until a damp crunch resounded.

 

Her breath hitched at the sight of the _water_ running down her hand, but rallied. This was for the victory.

 

“And here I thought you weren’t paying attention,” she said, firmly watching where the Eye had appeared on Miss no Mokou. “What an odd thing to call your infinite coin generation, Motivation–Ah _ha_! _There’s the High Score_!”

 

Raw reality crackled around the Eye of Cirno’s Motivation as it was pulled out. Her existence concluded, Cirno was dumped on the floor, where she folded listlessly.

 

Flandre held the Eye aloft, and felt her knuckles singing along with her heart.

 

She had done it!

 

It was so exhilarating, she couldn’t help but laugh!

 

And then Resurrection flared.

 

“Okay. I’m back,” said Mokou, rubbing her neck. “Sorry about the wait. The Elixir takes a while to purge supernatural illnesses, like vampirism. Er…not to…suggest you’re sick, or…” Her voice trailed off as she the tableau awaiting her was absorbed. It was clear to Mokou, one who considered herself an expert on the subject, that the fairy was dead, and the light in Flandre’s hand had something to do with it.

 

Mokou smiled artfully. You had to recognize the pattern after a thousand years.

 

“My, Miss Scarlet. You never told me you had an _arch-nemesis_.”

 

“What?” said Flandre, still rubbing the spots out of her vision. “No! We…we just met. She just _happened_ to be fighting me-”

 

“And at only five hundred,” Mokou sighed dreamily. “They sure are growing up faster and faster these days.”

 

“It’s not like that!”

 

“Now, now. There’s no need to hide it. I understand. I do. A fairy and a vampire…there’s no way that could ever be an intriguing fight, right? Don’t let society dictate who you can and cannot hate. The world is always a more understanding place than you think.”

 

“Miss no Mokou, listen-”

 

“But you should probably tell your sister as soon as possible. This is something she’d appreciate knowing.”

 

Flandre stared at Mokou’s well-intentioned grin, then at the Eye in her hand and wondered if she should Squeeze it right now. No, she shouldn’t. The Mood had spoiled. As Remilia had said: ‘ _Flandre, we are Ladies. Moreover, Ladies of the Night. Vampires. Higher than the gods in the awe of humans. We do_ not _suck off any random passerby. We have class. We wait for a Mood._ ’ Flandre remembered this conversation vividly because Meiling’s shoulders had been shaking while Remilia had told her this, and remembered thinking how awesome it was to have such an eximious Lady as a sister who could inspire quaking fear in even dragons. While this was not sucking blood, the same life-draining principle applied. How could Flandre look in the mirror and stand to call herself a vampire if something as special as her first abstract Eye Squeeze wasn’t sky-crackingly dramatic? She had no intention of making this fairy her arch-nemesis, but first times were still meant to be special!

 

“And I see you knocked out Keine, as well,” Mokou went on, in a voice that was suddenly full of cinders. “Let me guess. She got in the way of your fight to the death? Yeah, she does that. It’s one of the things teachers do. Don’t worry about Keine. Head like a diamond and youkai regeneration. She’ll be fine. Don’t know if I can say the same for you. I kind of want to punch your head off a little. But that’s not my place.”

 

She sat down next the Keine, and laid the hakutaku’s head on her lap.

 

“Have fun for today, because you’re going to be detentioned into next century tomorrow.” Mokou tucked a few strands of hair behind Keine’s ear. “Go on. I won’t stop you. I hate it when my fights get interrupted, too.”

 

“Actually,” said Flandre primly, “I have already won.”

 

“Well, yes, obviously. But your fairy will regenerate any second now and you’ll be able to get in some more fights to the death.”

 

Flandre’s smile reflected the icy blue Eye light.

 

Explanation occurred. It involved nearly as many sweeping gestures as it did explosion sound effects.

 

“…it’s a little strange, though.” Flandre was winding down now. “I wonder why I can only see Eyes of immortality when the person is dead. Because life is at its brightest when death ebbs? Why not, I guess. And normally Eyes don’t have this much…presence either. What do you think, Miss no Mokou? _I_ think this fairy must be pretty dense, huh?”

 

“So…does everyone have one of these?” said Mokou slowly. “Even people who have…partook in the Hourai Elixir?”

 

“Yep! Everyone! You were actually the one who gave me the idea.”

 

“And you can pull them out? Just like that?” Mokou hadn’t looked at Flandre through the vampire’s exposition; doing so would have involved laying eyes on the Eye. It wasn’t that it was too bright, it’s just that staring at the glow was beginning to give Mokou a headache, her teeth itch and incite whispers in the gnawing shadows of Mokou’s human brain. To avoid the macabre sight, she instead focused on the graying fairy body. She was aware a while ago that the fairy should have resurrected by now, although she seemed to have caught a deathly case of cold feet.

 

“Not now. Believe me, I tried. It’s stuck in you good. But with enough practice…” Flandre licked her lips.

 

“And, just to make sure we’re on the same page here, you pull this Eye out and the person you pulled it out of will _die_?”

 

“Yep!”

 

“Like, forever?”

 

“Forever and ever and ever.”

 

“No chance of them coming back? Dead for eternity?”

 

“Hopefully!”

 

“Why would you ever want that?”

 

Flandre, blade-edged smile and all, put her head to one side. Mokou’s tone was beginning to give her pause. An unfamiliar feeling. Vampires, as a species, were not predisposed to reflection.

 

“See, I’ve thought about it a lot,” Mokou went on, “and there is much time to think when you are bleeding out on the forest floor with your legs two miles back, and there is no reality in which I want Kaguya Houraisan gone forever. I’ll leave her eyeless, tongueless and impaled on a bamboo sprout any Thursday of her choice, and, let’s be real, I’ll laugh at her while I’m doing it, but I don’t want her _dead_ dead. I couldn’t live with something like that on my conscious. What would I do with myself? What I did before? _No thanks_. So just give the fairy her Eye back-”

 

“Come on, Miss no Mokou. One person? Who has time for that? You’re not thinking big enough!”

 

“Yes. It’s amazing how little time you have for other people, isn’t it?”

 

Flandre put her arm around Mokou’s shoulders and thrust the Eye in her face. Mokou winced away from it.

 

“Look at it,” gushed Flandre. “This shouldn’t exist! It’s nothing more than a concept. Yet here it is. Don’t you realize what this means? Everything can go boom. Everything _can_ go _boom._ This door. The seals. The Barrier! _Remilia!_ ”

 

“ _I said, give the fairy her Eye back!_ ”

 

But Flandre was too busy soaring through the future. It was so _sparkly_. In her eyes shone downpours of plasma and hails of cruor. A dream that was more scarlet than red. And it was all for _her_.

 

Giggles broke out of Flandre’s mouth in a spate.

 

She held out the Eye, her fingers closing in.

 

“And Then There Were-”

 

By rights, Flandre should have been able to dodge Mokou’s fist, but surprise had made it faster than even vampire reflex.

 

When the world ceased spinning, Flandre found herself on her back, held down by Mokou’s knees. She tried to fling the human off, but she was disconcertingly, _wrongly_ , heavy.

 

“Cheater!” screeched Flandre, and ignored the scalding in her lungs. “You are a cheater and an eater of pumpkins! You’re supposed to call out the name of your attack before you attack me! Everyone knows that!”

 

“That was a non-spell,” said Mokou. “You don’t have to call those out, right?”

 

“Well…no,” acquiesced Flandre. “But you…should ‘ave told…me ye…wanted…t’play. Tha’s…g’d sp’rtsminship…”

 

Flandre attempted to clench her hand, only to find it empty. Had the Eye bounced out of her grip? Could it do that? It looked physical enough-

 

She coughed raggedly, blood bubbled on the corner of her mouth.

 

“Here’s the thing,” said Mokou, as calm as a snow of ash. “I’ve been alive a long godsdamn time, and I know nothing about vampires. Why is every godsdamn thing about you so apocryphal? Does wolfsbane repel you? Does garlic? Do you have to stop and count any small object dropped in front of you? But you and your sister are damn curious, so I can understand how that one got around. Supposedly, fire is meant to purify you, although, in fairness to that point, my fire is hardly natural or pure. If Remilia can walk around in broad daylight in a long dress and parasol, the sun can’t be that dangerous. And I hadn’t even heard of the roasted soy bean thing until last Setsubun. There are two things always showing up as canonical vampire killers: silver and wooden stakes.”

 

In terror, Flandre’s gaze followed Mokou’s arms down, which had Keine’s history scroll poised over Flandre’s heart.

 

“Why that is, I have no idea. Does it have to be special wood? Holy wood, to drive out an unholy problem? No idea. I leave that sort of thing to people smarter than me. The one thing I want to know right now, and maybe you can help me with this, is how much of wood does the stake need to be? I figure this scroll has to be, like, ninety-eight percent plant matter. It is a hakutaku’s duty to record history. Their _sacred_ duty, as mandated by the emperors of yore. It will hurt you. I am not allowing you to threaten this world.”

 

Mokou pressed down. Flandre writhed.

 

“But I wasn’t even trying to destroy the world this time!” is what Flandre attempted to say, but came out as a series of hacks.

 

As if divining their meaning, Mokou continued:

 

“It always starts as something trivial. Ha ha, wouldn’t it be funny if I turned you and your family to ash over a game of shogi? Oh wait. You can’t laugh because you're ashes. You know something great about being human? Pattern recognition. You think I haven’t seen your expression, heard your words before? You start to realize that you’re not beholden to anything. I’ve been what happens when fire gets out of hand. There are some places grass still won’t grow. I’m not the world’s best role model, but I like to think I’m getting better. Got a great social studies teacher now. I don’t care who you are _,_ if you threaten her, then everything I’ve done to that cheating, two-timing, _homewrecker whore of a princess will look like skip rope compared to what I’ll do to you!_ ”

 

Flandre screamed.

 

It wasn’t a particularly Ladylike one.

 

It was incoherent, ravaging, bloodcurdling fury consumed by visceral thirst. Huddled, exposed and shivering, around icy fires had primordial man heard these wails, and from them, learned what there was to fear in the darkness.

 

Her body contorted and slammed a wing into Mokou’s skull. As she stumbled back, Flandre rose and brought her arm across the human’s chest in one motion. Mokou, for the briefest of seconds, soared, before she crunched into a wall.

 

Flandre wobbled on her feet. It was difficult to discern, between the tears and spitting blood, if she was laughing or coughing.

 

Flandre’s conscious was not the most stable construct, being held together by duct tape and chewed gum at its most tranquil. But she knew in her fangs and claws exactly what to do to a with human backed against a wall.

 

No point in running the numbers now.

 

She lunged.

 

And twirled around the thrown pinions, claws raised the judgement of the devil. Mokou’s Eye was becoming ever more visible-

 

And flapped her wings wildly as she saw Mokou’s hand blur out in front of her.

 

Flandre looked down. She had come to a stop, by the feel of it, with the scroll buried up to her ribcage. Flandre looked up. Mokou’s other hand impatiently held back a cobalt flame.

 

The smell of burning flesh infested Flandre’s nostrils.

 

Now, however, there was a point, a point rather close to her heart, to run the numbers.

 

No, though her mind may not have been the most well equipped processor of rational thought, it was nevertheless endemically optimized to perform very specific calculations very fast.

 

Let’s see…

 

…going forward wasn’t much of an option…going up, down or to the sides, now…Flandre was fast…but at extreme disadvantage…based on how quickly she tossed that fireball, Mokou’s reaction time had to be no slower than…oh my…that’s faster than Flandre would have liked for a human a thousand years old…

 

One side of Flandre’s face started to twitch.

 

…well, what about…no, no, no…look at her eyes, like two balls of iron…no way the fake crying would work on that…so much for that _pis aller_ …

 

Breathing became a raw coldness as the inner mathematician palavered.

 

…she could go back…yes…squeezing that Motivation Eye could be considered an alternate win condition...yes, yes…the fireball wouldn’t kill her, and could maybe even _propel_ …wait, no…it wouldn’t kill her, but a scroll through the heart while she’s off balance…unless she wanted to take the risk on the scroll on immediately reducing her to ashes…no…no, no, no…no good…none of it was any good…not to mention the stakes being far too high for any vampire’s liking…

 

Slowly, because humans go jumpy in the presence of sudden movements, Flandre raised her hands.

 

“Fine. You win this round.”

 

She wiggled off the scroll and landed heavily on the floor.

 

Dragging her feet, Flandre shuffled over the Cirno’s Eye and scooped it up.

 

“But don’t go thinking this is over. If you hadn’t had that stake, you’d be all over the walls. You won’t get me so easily next time.” Then Flandre turned to Mokou with a great, big, bloody smirk. “And I’m looking forward it already.”

 

To her surprise, Mokou’s posture was unchanged, baring the thin layer of vampire ashes coating the tip of the scroll.

 

“What?” said the human.

 

“What?’ said Flandre, with compounding befuddlement.

 

“This isn’t some sort of vampire trick, is it?”

 

“Don’t rub it in, Miss no Mokou. You think I don’t know how games work? I figured out all the odds of me winning. They weren’t high. The loser obeys the winner’s request. That’s the rules of the danmaku game. You wanted me to put the fairy’s Eye back, yes?”

 

“But… _that’s it_?” said Mokou, who was never one to put down a fireball easily.

 

“Yes, it’s discouraging to lose after coming so far, but that’s the rules. And it was still really fun. I’m satisfied. I learned so much, and made two new friends tonight! I have so many new friends to play with these days! I’m almost never alone anymore.”

 

Mokou stared. Despite Flandre’s assertions, she felt the two of them were playing by two very different rules, indeed.

 

Flandre tossed the Eye and caught it firmly, then, after closing one eye and poking out a tongue to perfect the angle, shoved it into Cirno.

 

It was difficult to describe what happened next, as no one had ever had the opportunity to explain what putting an Eye back was like. But there was almost certainly a sound like ‘moob,’ followed by an implosion of silence.

 

Mokou’s expression of disbelief must not have shifted, because Flandre placed her hands on her hips.

 

“What?” she demanded. “You think I would ignore the rules? That I would dash the spirit of game on the stones and drink its blood? Do you think that little of me? Only spoiled brats unleash four-hundred and ninety-five years’ worth of malice at the thought of losing, and I’ve already been grounded for that once. I am not a cheater, Miss no Mokou. That would be _wrong_.”

 

And that was it. It finally snapped inside Mokou. The dam broke, and Mokou laughed a deluge of needed laughter. She laughed and laughed and laughed until she couldn’t breath and all fire in her demeanor extinguished. She was laughing still as she swooped Flandre into a mashing hug.

 

“Ow,” said Flandre. “My wings...”

 

“Sorry,” panted Mokou.

 

“Er. Are you okay?”

 

“If it’s any consolation, they’re digging into my ribs, too.”

 

“But you were crying before you picked me up.”

 

“We really are nothing alike.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean? I thought we were friends!”

 

Mokou set the vampire down and gave her an affectionate head rub.

 

“You bet we are,” she said, breath visible, then looked up into the glittering air.

 

As if held up by a celestial puppeteer, the fairy’s body floated above.

 

Frost was spiraling around it.

 

A gentle burst of aurora rolled across the ceiling.

 

The universe held its breath. And when it exhaled…

 

The world went white.

 

…it caused a second-long blizzard. It was surprisingly toasty.

 

And Cirno descended to the ground like a snow angel.

 

She then teetered, and threw up.

 

“Arrghh,” she said, gripping her head. “That was some spell card, alright. Jus’…give me a second. I need to catch my breath. That was like…like the type of piss that psychic sod up at the Buddhists’ would do. Ye don’t know her, do ye?”

 

“I don’t _think_ so,” said Flandre.

 

“There was…it was…” Cirno’s eyes glazed in recall. “There was a snowfield, I think…a grey one, overcast…an’ everythin’ felt heavy…I wanted to close my eyes…but there was Rumia, an’ Mystia, an’ Meiling, all my friends…yellin’ at me to get back up…but everythin’ was so _heavy_ …”

 

“That was nice of them.”

 

Cirno blinked.

 

“Yeah, ye said it…er, Mokou, right? Hey, I thought you died.”

 

Mokou shrugged. “I get that a lot.”

 

“Yer must do! Yer looked really good at it.”

 

“Get that a lot, too.”

 

Cirno squared her shoulders, cracked her knuckles, shook the vomit off her dress, and held out the Icicle Fall card.

 

“Motivation’s still cold, vampire scum. My turn to kick yer ass in.”

 

Flandre, to her shame, had forgotten that by putting the Eye back meant her game with the fairy was left technically unfinished.

 

“So many people are making it past one round. So many strong people outside.” Flandre spread her arms wide, and grinned, anticipative.

 

“Have fun,” said Mokou, placing her hands in her pockets with a certain airiness. Wherever her eternal path would take her, she hoped it would never be to a place where reckless vengeance wasn’t endearing. “Someone’s gotta get Keine up.”

 

Cirno activated her spell card.

 

And deactivated it as soon as she heard the scream.

 

Flandre was huddled on the floor, untouched in a circle of icicle fragments, hands over her head and staring madly at nothing.

 

Cirno bore down on her soothingly. “Vampire scum! Are ya alright?”

 

“Water…” whimpered Flandre.

 

“Sure thing. Where do ya keep the glasses?”

 

“Running…water…”

 

“I have to catch ‘em?”

 

This was met with no response beyond a small sniffling. This would not do. It couldn’t be danmaku if everyone wasn’t having a good time. If Flandre wouldn’t give her anything to work with, Cirno would have to be helpful in a different way.

 

“Hey, are ya hungry?  I got a friend whose place is open all night, and she makes a _killer steak_ -”

 

Flandre bawled and tightened into a smaller ball.

 

Across the room, Keine Kamishirasawa had unglued one of her eyes, because, while she was known for many things, staying asleep while her girlfriend poked her in the cheek repeatedly murmuring, “…hey, hey, hey, hey, hey…” was not one of them.

 

“Gods, Mokou, what? Did I fall asleep writing history agai-” Her eyes widened as the apertures of the recent past expanded. She bolted up and looked around wildly. “Flandre! Oh gods, _Cirno_! Where are-!”

 

Cirno looked up, and raised a hand. “Present, Miss K. And, uh, Flandre’s here, too. _C’mon_ ,” she nudged trembling the vampire, “ya gotta raise yer hand and say, ‘present.’ Er, take my word for it, Miss K.”  And she went back to being helpful. “How ‘bout this: I know a priestess. She can bless you and-ah, _no_! _Please_ don’t start cryin’ again-”

 

Keine’s jaw hung. She closed it. Then opened it. Then closed it again. She noticed Mokou had extended a hand.

 

“I think,” she said once she was stably vertical, “I would like to request, in vainglorious detail, a logical explanation as to what has transpired in my absence.”

 

“An Incident,” said Mokou.

 

“I _see_. And was this a Someone Is Stealing Our Spring style Incident or a We Are Being Invaded By Rabbits From The Moon one?”

 

“About a There’s A Raven About To Overload Former Hell’s Reactor To Burn The Above Planet In Nuclear Fire, I’d say. But don’t worry, I stopped it before it got into its later stages. We hugged and pretended to be normal people, and everything. Everyone knows you become friends after you solve the Incident.”

 

Keine nodded. The longer one lived in Gensokyo, the more normal Incidents became.

 

“That will make an interesting footnote in History.” She patted her dress pocket. “As soon as I find where my scroll rolled off to…”

 

“It’s right here. Sorry. Had to borrow it.”

 

Keine took the proffered scroll and critically brushed off the ashes.

 

“You ‘borrow’ the scroll I’ve been working on for the past four moons to stop an Incident, and it comes back to me covered in vampire dust. I notice Flandre has a hole in her chest that her regeneration is slow to knit back up. Really, the only thing I’m actually surprised at is that I’m not surprised at all.”

 

“ _Wow_ ,” snorted Mokou. “Okay. See if I ever lift a finger to save the world again, lady.”

 

Keine sighed. “Sorry, I just hate the thought of history being wasted. In fact, I’m proud of you, Mokou. You didn’t burn down the room this time. We’ll make a respectable citizen of Gensokyo out of you yet. I wonder if you’ll even stop killing Kaguya…?”

 

Mokou pouted in that adorable way she did when she wanted it known that while not burning buildings down and even soap could be subject to discourse, her weekly murderings of the alien princess that slighted her father a thousand years ago was going to be the hill she died on, as many times as was necessary.

 

Keine reached down and retucked in Mokou’s shirt. Mokou hadn’t noticed it became undone.

 

“Every day you’re getting better, Mokou. Not going _full_ phoenix fire is what Gensokyo is all about. Those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it. Is that not so, Cirno?”

 

Cirno looked up again. “Huh? That repeatin’ history business? All true. All true. I’ll pass yer class one of these days, Miss K.”

 

“Ninth time’s the charm,” agreed Keine.

 

The great metal door was pushed open and knocked upon in one motion.

 

“Do pardon the interruption, Miss Kamishirasawa,” said Sakuya, “but I have come to–oh my!”

 

And then everyone else’s world changed.


	3. Quod Erat Demonstrandum

Technically, Sakuya Izayoi was the most underpaid human in the history of planet Earth; working for an average of two hundred and seventy-six hours a week for room and board plus some spending change. When Remilia had first offered the position, Sakuya had easily accepted. It was a position for her life.

 

Sakuya worked like a black hole; neither dust nor time contested her aproned wake. Where a mess may have been, there was now not. And you may even question one had existed in the first place.

 

She delicately placed her pocket watch back into her apron, next to the cement trowel and bloody, vomit-stained hand rag before she addressed the immaculate room once more:

 

“Pardon the interruption, Miss Kamishirasawa, but I have come to inform you that, regretfully, the time allotted for the young mistress’s tutoring has expired.”

 

“It’s quite alright. We were just winding down,” said Keine.

 

“Marvelous. And, young mistress?”

 

Flandre managed a head turn and an unsteady gaze. Her torn dress had been replaced with a fresh ensemble.

 

“It would appear the mistress wishes to have Words with you.”

 

“Muwa…” Flandre drooped.

 

“And a storm has impetuously brewed itself over the Mansion.”

 

“Muwa…”

 

“And, I am informed, that Meiling has been given the remained of the night off.”

 

“Muwa…!” Flandre perked.

 

“Quite, and I imagine the mistress will be too preoccupied with seeing our guests out and with dinner to have Words immediately. Unfortunately, you will have to find some way to entertain yourself in the interstice.”

 

“Hell yeah!” cheered Cirno. “‘bout time we get some food in this-”

 

She took a step forward, then blanched as whatever fumes she was running on wisped out. She wavered, eyes rolling back, before toppling backwards.

 

She vanished just as she was about to hit the ground.

 

Sakuya clicked her pocket watch shut.

 

“I reiterate: let us make haste. Punctuality, the classic dictum goes, is next to godlyity.”

 

\-----

 

“Ah, Miss Kamishirasawa, Miss Fujiwara.” Remilia opened her eyes. “I regret to tell you that I cannot escort you off the grounds through this weather. You’ve had a busy night, no doubt. I am pleased to see you well at its dénouement.”

 

The humans stepped out onto the voluminous portico, and Sakuya closed the door after them. A heavy rhythm of rain danced across the Mansion roofs. There was a faint sound of metallic agony as the gutters strained to earn their pension. A curtain of water poured off the portico. Remilia had been standing in the center of it all, ostensibly in focus.

 

“You and Meiling both,” observed Mokou. Freed from the confines of four walls, she wasted no time fishing out her tobacco pouch and rolling paper. “Not two steps into the main hall and she’s going hysterics on us, asking if we’re alright and why Cirno isn’t with us and if Cirno’s still alive.”

 

“I wonder why Cirno wouldn’t be alive. It’s the thing she does best,” said Remilia. “But…where _is_ she?”

 

“Asleep in a guest bedroom,” said Sakuya. “It would seem she regenerated herself to the point of exhaustion.”

 

“How interesting. Motivation alone cannot sustain a body. How interesting indeed. Flandre has commandeered Meiling for further games?”

 

“For the best, mistress. The young mistress was in a poor state when I found her.”

 

Keine stepped forward. “Lady Scarlet, regarding Flandre’s tutoring-” she began, but Remilia held up a hand.

 

“No need. Your time is valuable and I can guess. No progress was made because Flandre got slightly carried away playing her games.”

 

“Broadly, yes. Though ‘slightly’ is not the adverb I would use. I am ashamed to say I failed in my pedagogical duties.”

 

“Anyone still standing after a run-in with Flandre must be doing something right. I wouldn’t hesitate to say you made History tonight. No one can help Flandre the way you can.”

 

“Only a little History, and only when Flandre was in time out, I assure you,” said Keine. “Regardless, she now has a more homework than normal to complete this month. Please see to it that this time no - what was it - ‘pointy chupacabra’ eats it this time.”

 

Remilia’s eyebrows shot up. “I will make sure of it, but Miss Kamishirasawa, I assure you that my precious little Tupai would never do something like that!”

 

“Yes, I figured as much,” sighed Keine. “Anything to not do homework. Kids blame the family chupacabra all the time down at the temple school.”

 

Cherry-red embers magically bloomed in the depths of Mokou’s cigarette. She took a weary drag. It had not been the best night of her life.

 

“Oh, _yes_ ,” she said. “Magnificent performances all around. Exactly like the script said, no doubt. Let’s not pay any attention to Keine almost dying, or the Barrier coming _this_ close to exploding because you couldn’t be bothered to tell us that your sister can splinter nonexistence, but, hey, no worries, right? Everything went according to the chains, right?”

 

Remilia looked offended.

 

“You wanted me to give _spoilers_? Half the fun of a coach ride is not knowing where the bumps are, Miss Fujiwara. We hit our heads and we learn to jump next time. Who am I to take away potential growth from someone by telling them where they are?”

 

Mokou breathed out a smoldering cloud of smoke.

 

“You know what? You’re right. Gensokyo would have been a much more fun place if your Scarlet Mist became permanent. What a swell time, starvin’ to death, take my word. No sun, no crops, no animals, no humans, no blood. Reimu and Marisa, Keine and the children, you and Flandre, all shriveling up to dust. One killed the sun, and then there were none.”

 

For a while, there was only the sound of rain. Then lightning flashed. Thunder snarled. Remilia’s face broke out into a grin.

 

“Too true, too true. How often I get carried away when the fancy strikes me. I sink my teeth into something and can _not_ let go. Point to you, Miss Fujiwara. And may I say that I’m tempted to give you another for being up to date on your literature? I believe that makes the score one-one, if we count our kerfuffle in the Bamboo Forest. Sakuya, please see our guests out dry.”

 

“Yes, mistress.” Sakuya unfolded a large umbrella that Keine was certain she hadn’t walked out with.

 

“I mean, you didn’t even tell your sister why your plan to get infinite blood out of me didn’t work,” said Mokou, as the maid calculatedly placed herself upwind of her. “Figured it would have made a humorous anecdote, at least. I thought the only reason she asked was because she was that desperate. Don’t tell me you were too busy teaching her how to be Lady.”

 

“Do not even joke about that,” said Remilia, suddenly grave. “I, for one, would never have shown my face in public if I hadn’t known the difference between a table fork and a fruit fork. I keep telling her: neither are for burying in a human’s throat.” She shook her head. “Progress, you have no doubt ascertained, could stand to be improved. But I recognize I am keeping you from your duties. Please, have a good night.”

 

And the humans were gone in the rain. The vampire stared at their silhouettes. So much water…wet…and _running_ …

 

She shuddered, but Images were to be upkept, so drew herself up regally before entering the Mansion.

 

The requisitely rusted hinges hadn’t the chance to cease their fine-tuned squeaking before a sister-seeking ballistic cannoned out of a hall and wrapped itself around Remilia.

 

She hugged Flandre back.

 

“Oh, sister! It’s been such a grand night,” Flandre gushed. “Miss Kamishirasawa came over and she had a new friend with her and we played games. And a fairy came and then _we_ played even more games. That one was really fun! Does she work here? Please let her work here. It’s was like meeting Marisa all over again. Can Miss Kamishirasawa bring more friends over next time? I know you always say I’m not prepared to meet people, but how am I ever going to learn to beat them if I don’t ever see them?”

 

“Maybe I am right, through,” said Remilia. “Sakuya said you looked hurt when she came to get you. Are you sure you should be flying around?”

 

“Okay, sure, they got a _few_ good hits in,” growled Flandre grudgingly. “But they were nothing more than cheap gimmicks that I don’t plan on letting work on me twice.”

 

“You’re completely fine, then? Stomach feeling funny? Tooth ache? Drunk on existence-busting power, and out to obliterate anything concrete or abstract that stands before you? Halitosis?”

 

“No, not today. I feel lots better. I just had to get the blood flowing is all.”

 

“Really?” said Remilia. “Whose?”

 

This, being vampire repartee at its finest, elicited a giggle.

 

As it died down, Remilia held her little sister tighter.

 

“I’m glad you had fun. You can tell me all about your night in detail when we have a Talk.”

 

Flandre stiffened. Taking advantage of this fumble, Remilia plunged forward: “You’ve certainly kept yourself occupied. Disobeying Miss Kamishirasawa repeatedly. Pressganging Miss Fujiwara into playing a game you know you are not to play. Destroying your room, and forcing Sakuya to clean up after you. Breaking our esteemed guests numerous times. Veritably painting your room in fairy parts. Attempting to snap non-existence in half. _Blaming not doing your homework on Tupai_.”

 

“But everyone was having fun…” said Flandre sullenly.

 

“Were they? Were they really? I am happy you pushed your limits, but attempting to crush others’ Motivation is indefensible.”

 

“But si-iste-er!”

 

“ _Flandre_ …”

 

“…yes, sister…”

 

Those weren’t harmonics Flandre dared to push her luck against. They harbingered dread fulminations astronomically more baleful than mere garlic or stakes: the taking away of toys, or, worse still, being sent to her coffin without blood pudding.

 

Remilia ostentatiously cleared her throat.

 

“So,” she began. “I don’t know if you noticed, but it’s raining quite the deluge.”

 

“I did!” said Flandre, inspirited from the subject change. “Is that why Meiling has the rest of the night off? I wished it rained more if that’s the case. Oo! What if we get her to make it rain all the time?”

 

“Now, now, Flandre. Commanding Meiling to make it rain on a whim is a gross misuse of power. However, you know what’s a neat misuse of-”

 

“I _guess_ ,” grumbled Flandre. “But are you sure I’m safe out of my room? What about all those witches, and shine maidens, and phoenixes, and dragons, and vampire hunters who move faster than the speed of light with their silver knives that would fight me if I step outside?

 

“Erm. No. But I-”

 

“I did say all of the things you told me were out there, right?”

 

“You did, yes. But, you see, they all hate going out in the rain, so there’s no chance they would come for you. Speaking of rain-”

 

“Do they! _Well_ then,” said Flandre, with the pride of a lawyer exhibiting a loophole in some hoary statute. “What _if_ we invite them over one night for some games? They’d have so much fun, they wouldn’t want to hurt me anymore! They already hate running water. I bet we’d have plenty in common if we sat down together. Not now, obviously. I know how you feel about water: it turns your insides out onto the ground, and ruins your dress.”

 

Remilia appeared to desire to form words.

 

“I need to get back to Meiling, sister,” said Flandre, disentangling herself. “We were playing some spelling cards when I heard you come in. See you at dinner!”

 

And Flandre was somewhere else, a tiny sonic boom the only indication she was ever there at all. It faded, diffused, leaving the saturnine silence of one struggling not to feel sorry for themselves.

 

Then Remilia unfurled her own magnificent wings, and soared through the Mansion until she reached the dining hall, where she depressed herself into the big chair at the head of the table.

 

“Why do I bother, Sakuya?” she said. “Why do I even bother?”

 

Sakuya, who was not present a second earlier, said, “Don’t worry, mistress. I thought you standing under an expansive awning just outside the rain was _very_ impressive.”

 

“You have a good heart, Miss Izayoi,” said Remilia, removing her cap.

 

“It’s why you keep me around, mistress,” said Sakuya jovially.

 

“Exactly correct. Now, if you will excuse me…”

 

Whereupon completion of this sentence, Remilia stuffed her cap into her mouth and proceeded to hyperventilate until sufficiently calmed from her bottled-up water-induced hysteria.

 

Sakuya flicked open her watch. “Six minutes, twenty-nine seconds and eighty-four milliseconds, mistress. Any day now you will be unchallenged in your reign.”

 

“A two hundred millisecond increase. My time gets better every day,” remarked Remilia, coolly placing her cap back on her head. “Sakuya, do me a favor, will you? Invite that wind goddess on the mountain to our next soirée. I refuse to believe she wasn’t at least present when rain was invented.”

 

“I shall do so directly, mistress. What shall I tell her are the festivities? You impaling her on a spike and mounting it on the lawn to predicate your superiority?”

 

“Heavens, no! People don’t respect that sort of thing anymore. No, what we will do is after we invite her and her family, we choose an unconditionally garish table setting and say it complements them perfectly! _That_ will teach her a lesson.”

 

“Yet another shrewdly sadistic stratagem, mistress.”

 

“Rain…” growled Remilia. “What’s even the point of it?”

 

“Well, mistress, aside from the obvious beneficial implications for flora and fauna, it also aids in cooling the planet off and cleans the air and oceans. And the lightning occasionally produced as a byproduct of electrical buildup breaks apart nitrogen in the atmosphere, turning it into nitrous oxide, which, in turn, dissolves into the rain, and from the rain, into the soil, which is valuable for horticulture-”

 

“Sakuya?”

 

“Yes, mistress?”

 

“Permit me my impotent rage at the heavens.”

 

“Yes, mistress.”

 

Remilia stretched, leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “Before you go, could you do me another favor and keep dinner warm for a little while?”

 

“Of course, mistress.” Sakuya bowed, and appeared not to move before saying, “It is done.”

 

“Thank you, Sakuya. I fear Meiling and Flandre will be a while still. It is not every day I get the opportunity to eat with my sister. What’s on the platter today, by the way?”

 

“Nothing short of the epitome of regal cuisine, mistress, dined upon by the most preeminent citizens the world over. Ambrosia can only wish to be as half as resplendent as the food I have prepared for you tonight.”

 

“Ah. Pizza with blood sausage and cruor again? How you spoil me, Sakuya!”

 

“It’s fine to be spoiled every now and then, mistress.”

 

“Every now and then,” yawned Remilia. It was getting early. “And bring something up from the cellars, will you? A good vintage claret, if you please.”

 

“Are you certain, mistress? I thought the young mistress did not drink…wine.”

 

“Not often, I’ll grant. I doubt even Yukari could stand up to a drunk-”

 

The Vampire of the Heavy Fog stopped and turned to her maid, eyes joyously overflowing with sudden tears.

 

“Did you just…?”

 

The only thing Sakuya could offer in her own defense was a merry, argent smile.

 

“What can I say, mistress? Your tenacity must be rubbing off on me.”

 

\-----

 

By flight, the trip to and from the Scarlet Devil Mansion and the human village was only three minutes. Therefore, Keine and Mokou flew.

 

Personally, Mokou preferred walking. It wasn’t as if she was in any danger of wasting time. But she respected not everyone had the time she did to stop and admire the scenery; especially when her brand of admiration largely involved reminiscing over how _those_ stars used to be over _there_. It didn’t hurt that the wind down there wasn’t likely to blow your cigarette out instantly either.

 

Speaking of nugatory things no one cares about from outer space…

 

Mokou pulled out a battered notebook out of her pocket.

 

“Hey, Keine,” she said diffidently.

 

“Hm? Yes, dear?” Keine turned. She had been going over the writing in her scroll for any damage.

 

“Um…I planned out a new way to murder Kaguya, and, er, I know you like reading them and all…”

 

Keine smiled sweetly and took the notebook. It was important for a girlfriend to show interest in their significant other’s hobbies, as well as keeping their assassinations at least civil.

 

She read the offered page.

 

“Well?” said Mokou shyly.

 

“It looks…familiar,” said Keine, turning the book over. “Wasn’t this the one-?” The previous page read:

 

**Step 1) Ambush Whore of Bamboo**

**Step 2) Break arms**

**Step 3) Grind lower jaw to ash**

**Step 4) Combust digestive system**

**Step 5) Boil brain slowly**

**Step 6) Listen to braindead gurgles for approx. two hours**

**Step 7) Completely liquefy brain**

*** IMPORTANT* Step 8) Burn ‘Property of Mokou’ into any remaining real estate**

 

“I thought so. This was when you attacked Kaguya in Eientei and woke up somewhere behind Kourindou.” Keine handed the journal back. “What did I say less than twenty minutes ago? Those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it.”

 

“But I am learning! Look. See? I’m breaking her legs this time so she can’t cast foot magic on me.”

 

“Be that as it may-” Keine began, but blinked. “ _Foot magic_?”

 

“I know, right? I didn’t think it was a thing either. A thousand years old and still learning something new every day.”

 

“Well,” said Keine, “be that as it may, dumping her body in front of Udonge is going entirely too-”

 

Then Keine realized she was talking to empty air. Mokou was a few meters back, stopped dead and staring at the horizon.

 

Far off, at the edge of the Bamboo Forest of the Lost, stood a pink speck, vibrant against the raising dusk. Without the hampering of conversation, Princess Kaguya Houraisan’s shouting could easily be discerned:

 

“-on, Tewi! I said I was sorry. If you didn’t want those dumplings you hid under the floorboards to be used of offerings for the Monthly Lunar Festival, you should have written your name on them. But they were really good! They’re going a long way to symbolically keeping the Lunar Emissaries back. Let me find my way, already!”

 

Giddy malice lit up in Mokou’s leer.

 

“Dearie _me_ , Highness,” she said. “Whatever could you be doing so far from your domicile? Wandered off, but seem to be having bad luck finding Eientei again? You should have known better than to cross a youkai on the full moon. How long have you lived with Tewi? How fortuitous for the human. Where, oh where, are your bodyguards? Did the rabbit convince you not to bring them before she tricked you into following her? And dressed in such diaphanous silks! Didn’t Dr. Yagokoro ever tell you you could catch your death of **_heat_** that way?”

 

Keine sniffed. “Why would she do that? It doesn’t make sense. Now come along, dear.”

 

Certainly, the words were received in Mokou’s mind, but she couldn’t quite fit them in the round holes of obvious logic.

 

“Huh?” she said.

 

“History must be recorded on nights with the full moon, and there is not much midnight oil left to burn.”

 

“Yes…but…Kaguya…she’s right _there_! And she hasn’t noticed us yet. And-”

 

“And?” said Keine terminally.

 

“And revenge…”

 

Keine folded her arms, unimpressed.

 

“But…but…!” Mokou gesticulated beseechingly, at an utter loss as to how Revenge wasn’t an adequate reason to liquidate someone.

 

Keine rolled her eyes, then grabbed Mokou’s collar, and smashed their lips together.

 

“I expect you back at the house in one hour; alive, preferably,” she said after pausing for a breath. “Though I’m sure I’d make do otherwise.”

 

“The plan calls for at least two hours…” said Mokou meekly.

 

“In one hour,” repeated Keine, and took off, lest further objections had the chance to raise themselves.

 

Once, Keine had asked Dr. Yagokoro why the good doctor didn’t merely create a Hourai Antidote. Wasn’t she upset about the damages to Eientei, the nights of interrupted sleep, the repeated deaths of her princess, the knowledge that her own hand had created her own biggest threat to Her Highness’s sequestering from the moon? And the doctor had given her a look, or possibly even a Look, and said that sometimes yes, those thoughts can come to the surface, but Her Highness, she was miserable before Mokou showed up. She had mastered every instrument, read every book and she’s quite the skilled nurse. Nothing was too great for her to accomplish. But sometimes, she would just sit on the veranda and stare at nothing for months, no inkling of the lunarian who fled headlong into impurity. Sometimes she’d just die of dehydration or starvation. Now…she’s still dying, but constructively. There’s a fire in eyes as she considers how to best get back at Mokou. She’s smiling more these days. So, no. No antidote in sight. However, if you’d like to take care of your, ahem, monthly problem, I can probably figure something out-

 

Shivering at the memory of the size of the syringe that magically appeared in Dr. Yagokoro’s hand, Keine surveyed the final bits of writing in the history scroll for runoff. A sentence caught her eye:

 

**And then Fujiwara no Mokou and Flandre Scarlet ceased fighting and began to hug.**

She stared at it. The train of thought was being boarded…

 

_I wouldn’t hesitate to say you made History tonight…_

 

_Everything went according to the chains, right…?_

_No one can help Flandre the way you can…_

_We hugged and pretended to be normal people, and everything_ …

 

A princessly shriek echoed across the night in conjunction with a rush of fire.

 

Laughing, Keine tucked the scroll away. History repeats, and the most repetitious thing about it is that the more you learn from it, the more you find that things are just different enough. About time someone else picked up on that.

 

She wondered if she had enough time for a bath, but quickly brushed the suggestion aside. If history had taught her anything, she was going to sleep sweaty, regardless.

 

\-----

 

The sun rose over Gensokyo, signaling the start of another gorgeous day. Flowers woke up, bugs crawled out of their holes, the birds began singing to each other, one grilled lamprey while doing so. Meiling was already enjoying the new day, idly chatting with a greater fairy who had wandered to the Scarlet Devil Mansion gates. The remaining members of the Mansion were looking forward to reveling in this resplendent morning by interacting with it as little as possible.

 

Presently, Sakuya Izayoi strolled down one of the endless corridors of the Mansion in her Private World. She carried a basket of soaked clothes.

 

And the corridors _were_ endless. Time and Space may have been fundamentally different as _x_ and _y_ , but they occupied the same, indivisible axis. Stretch one, and the other contorts in kind. Creating infinite space inside the Mansion was as simple as bending the time evolution operator around Sakuya’s little finger.

 

Last night had been hectic up until its terminus. Games had been played. Happily, the foyer was spared from the worst of them. Dinner had been eaten. Aggressively. Words had been had. Flandre took extreme dudgeon to them. No one had told her ripping out the Motivation of fairies was wrong! How was she supposed to know, really? On the bright side, if she was good girl, she might get a chance to talk to some of those very real threats that kept her sequestered for her own safety, and, who knows, maybe make them come around. Vampires had gone to their coffins for the sunrise. Remilia had agreed to read Flandre a good morning story, and had recited a chapter from the young mistress’s favorite story: a tale of nine strangers exposed to psychological terror and eventual murder because a man found the idea entertaining. Flandre had been overjoyed; her sister did the _worst_ voices. But they were the worst in the best ways.

 

Sakuya nudged open the laundry room door, and permitted time to flow once more. The once white garments in the basket dripped their crimson drops. Sakuya didn’t mind it, now that they would dribble onto tile, not her carpet.

 

One might raise the question of why one would bother wearing such light colors when one’s primary sustenance stained it effortlessly. That would make them unnecessarily dirty, surely?

 

Why, yes. That was the point.

 

The mistresses Scarlet were products of a different time. A time when vampires were peerless. A more classical time. A time when humans meant games, or, more specifically, _were_ game. A time when a vampire had to contest its food. A time when your food ran and wriggled, and any banquet devolved immediately into a ruddy frenzy. A time when, even though you didn’t need much, you still spilt the jugular and drenched yourself, so all would know who Got There First. So many people never knew how Remilia earned the name Scarlet Devil. None remembered if Flandre, a peerless vampire even still, ever received such an appellation; perhaps she never left enough for the imagination to speculate. Remilia, who rather enjoyed being peered, was in no hurry to demonstrate what had given her her nickname. Who was she supposed to invite to her parties then?

 

Thus, certain habits proving burned into the blood, the sisters were incurably messy eaters. Sakuya didn’t know how one splattered blood on an opposite wall in the room adjacent to where they currently ate pizza with a soup spoon, but the young mistress was ever full of surprises.

 

Sakuya, for one, was glad she didn’t live in those bad old days. She had enough laundry to do as is.

 

\-----

 

Floors above, a guest bedroom’s window blasted open, leaving a lingering frost on the latticework. Reenergized from her brief nap and cold pizza left on her bedside, the Strongest set out to face this new day, full of new and exciting frogs to freeze, while her heart still ran cold. Motivation waited for nobody.

**Author's Note:**

> My Tumblr: http://clockworksampi.tumblr.com/
> 
> Commentary: https://clockworksampi.tumblr.com/post/160633454167/squeeze-commentary
> 
> If you have criticism, please read the commentary first. The thing you wanted to say may have already been addressed. Then we would both look silly!
> 
> If you liked what you read, please consider commissioning me to write for you, it'll help me out a lot!: http://clockworksampi.tumblr.com/post/146010687102/sampis-commission-information


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